iPlay to Win
by afanoffanfic
Summary: Sam didn't set out to fall in love with her best friend's brother; she never thought they would really have a chance to be together. But when it  looks like Spencer is about to make a big mistake, Sam has to speak up and play to win. SPAM.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: In case anyone forgot, I don't own iCarly. Standard Spam warnings apply. For my purposes, the IOMG/ILMM storyline does not exist. No apologies – this is Spamland after all! This is my second attempt at this story – it's been fighting me (maybe I've been fighting it!) from day one. Part of the reason is that it's not the same KIND of Spam story that I've written in the past, and I had in my head that I wanted it to be. While both Spencer and Sam have weaknesses that lend themselves to my stories, they are more apparent (and exploited) here. This story is not a fairy tale in the sense that iDouble Take and iRoll are. Then again, most of us don't get to live in a fairy tale either. Speaking only in terms of the writing, I decided that I really needed to broaden my focus. I hope you'll give me a little bit of wiggle room! (And many thanks to WhiteKnightro; without his shining example I would not have been moved to [shudder] attempt a revision of this story…) Drafts? What are those? I know I said I wouldn't repost it until the story was complete, but upon further consideration, that was really taking the easy way out. I have to challenge myself to write this story and the best way is to put it out there.

Prologue

Sam Puckett didn't set out to fall in love with her best friend's brother. Who did that? Especially when said brother was considerably older and knew better than to ever look twice at an (almost) eighteen year old girl. She'd once tried to tell him – knowing that no one would take her seriously – just to see how he might react. There'd been a moment of silence, and an abrupt change of subject. It was never mentioned again. But it was going to have to be mentioned again. Because she also counted her best friend's brother as her friend, and he was about to make a big mistake.

Spencer strolled nonchalantly into the Groovy Smoothie, pausing to stare up at the menu as though he really had no idea what he wanted. The perky young woman behind the counter smiled at him. He'd been doing this every day for the past two weeks. "Hey Spencer!" she'd call brightly. "What can I get for you today?" She would bat her eyes and tilt her head in a most becoming fashion. Next he would act surprised to see her –

"Oh **HI** April! I didn't know you were working today. What do you recommend?" He would smile back at her and lean against the counter.

"T Bo's running a special today on Tingleberry Blitz (or Strawberry Splat, or Pumpkin-Banana-Choco-Splosion, or whatever the flavor of the day happened to be.) It's really _gooood_," she would trill.

"Sounds delish. I'll take it," Spencer would say, still smiling at the dark haired wench. His hand would brush hers as money was exchanged. She would blush and look up at him coquettishly, her hand lingering a little too long on the smoothie as she passed it to him. Their conversation over, Spencer would give her a small wave before turning to leave, pausing just long enough to see if she would wave back. She always did. The ring on her left hand would flash in the sunlight, but it might as well be invisible – Spencer never seemed to see it.

Sam sat at her favorite table, watching the same scene replay itself this afternoon. At first she hadn't thought much of it. After all, they were ALL regulars at the Groovy Smoothie. She, Carly & Freddie were there almost every day after school. It wasn't a big deal that Spencer was there too. She had started to pay attention the day she noticed the woman – April was her name – open her compact and refresh her lip gloss moments before Spencer walked in. She'd watched day by day as the smiles got wider and the eye contact got longer. Sam was getting more irked by the minute. If Spencer Shay was bound and determined to make a mistake, Samantha Puckett was damn sure going to make sure that it was with her. Not with some two timing married witch with a capital B.


	2. Chapter 2

How it All Started

When Spencer Shay looked at the world, he saw art. He couldn't help it; he was made that way. Other people looked at empty milk cartons in the recycling bin and saw trash – Spencer saw his next sculpture. He looked at a child's torn and discarded kite and imagined reincarnating it as a Chinese lantern. While walking through the aisles of the grocery store, he mentally rearranged cereal boxes into elaborate towers and fortresses. He had never viewed this as a problem, at least until the day he came home to find Sam sprawled on his couch watching TV. Not because it was unusual to find Sam making herself at home in his apartment – Sam routinely took ownership of any space she occupied, regardless of whether she was actually invited or entitled. It was that something in the nature of the sprawl sparked a connection in his brain. She lounged on a pillow with her arms thrown over her head, the upward motion pulling her top up just enough to reveal a smooth stripe of skin. For a moment, Sam wasn't Sam. She was art. She was Rose posing for Jack on the Titanic, and he could so clearly see how the picture would be drawn that he had to blink twice in order to refocus on the Sam who was actually there, rather than the one who so suddenly appeared in his mind's eye. He stopped in his tracks, shaking his head and muttering to himself 'whoa Spence, you really need to start dating again. It's pretty bad when you start having visions of –' he turned around to look at her again. 'Teenaged girls.'

Registering his presence, Sam sat up to greet him. " 'Sup Spence? Are you ok? You look a little dazed." She looked towards the fridge guiltily. "Is it about the meatballs? I'm really sorry I ate them all. But I was starving! Oh, and you're out of bacon too." Having confessed her sins for the day (well, MOST of them anyway,) she sank back down on the pillow without waiting for his response.

"Umm…no problem Sam. I only keep that stuff here for you, you know."

"Yeah, that's what I figured. That's why I love you so much." Casual. Offhand. Figure of speech…small smile.

Spencer might have overlooked this had he not just experienced the vision. He probably wouldn't have given it another thought. Instead, he felt the tiniest prickle of unease. He tried to tell himself it was probably nothing – it could have happened to anyone. After all, Sam was a beautiful… Spencer actually smacked himself at this point. This would not do. It would not do at all. Sam looked on curiously as he headed back out the door.

Mumbling under his breath, Spencer crossed the street to the Groovy Smoothie. "Didn't see it. Didn't hear it. Didn't see it. Didn't hear it. Didn't see it. Didn't hear it. I am going to flirt with the next girl who smiles at me, and I am going to ask her out, and under no circumstances am I going to think about Sam. Because there is absolutely _no reason_ for me to think about Sam." Having assured himself that he was under control, Spencer walked up to the counter. The new clerk smiled…

o O o

Spencer left the Groovy Smoothie with his Blueberry Bang, making a concerted effort to ignore the fact that Sam had been drilling twin lasers into his back for the past five minutes. He tried to recall anything he might have done to merit such treatment, but so far was coming up blank. Nevertheless, it was evident he was on the "chizz list," so it would probably be prudent to take himself out of arms reach. Just in case.

Through narrowed eyes, Sam watched him leave. Day fifteen and he showed no signs of seeing the cliff he was about to drop over. Time to take some action.

Sam sauntered up to the counter where April pretended to be busy wiping up a nonexistent spill. She cleared her throat and waited for the woman to look up.

"Back for more?" April asked in a bored tone.

"Someone got up on the wrong side of the bed this morning. Do you treat all of T Bo's best customers this way?" Sam replied sarcastically.

April rolled her eyes. "May I HELP you?"

"As it happens, I'm going to help you. You are obviously in need of some advice."

"Really." April was not impressed.

"Yeah, you're still pretty new around here, so this is your one freebie. There won't be another one. You know that guy that just left here? The one that you've been practicing your 'come hither' look on for the last two weeks? I strongly suggest that you _back off_ and make sure you get up on the wrong side of your OWN bed. Because you are a mistake that he is not going to make. I guarantee it."

April laughed. "What are you, like sixteen? You are _way_ out of your league. Surely you don't think he would ever hook up with you! Go back and mind your own business in the schoolyard where you belong."

Not sixteen. Seventeen years, three hundred forty days and counting. "I don't think so. Because as long as you're minding his – I'M minding yours."

Sam stalked from the restaurant, tossing one last comment over her shoulder. "FYI – I play to win."


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: For those who are a few years removed from their Greek mythology, Hera was the queen of the gods, wife of Zeus. In addition to being the goddess of marriage and women, she was known for being vengeful and jealous. Although he doesn't know it, Spencer's vision of Sam as Hera is somewhat prophetic under the circumstances.

o O o

Something was definitely wrong with Sam. This was disconcerting, because when Sam was in a mood, she tended to do things without thinking. These things often led to no good – causing harm of either the physical or emotional variety. Even more distressing, her current state seemed to revolve around him. He thought back to the most recent incident…

Sam stormed into the Shay apartment Saturday afternoon and headed straight for the fridge. Yanking the door open, she quickly inventoried the contents. "Spencer, you are a god!" she called over her shoulder, pulling out a bowl of leftover chili. She started spooning it into her mouth without even heating it up, heading back towards the couch and dropping down beside him. "Would you believe," she started, waving the spoon around in the air, "that my _mother_ who rarely ever even knows my whereabouts, roped me into participating in a PICNIC in our basement?"

Spencer looked bemused. "So… you had a picnic, and you're still raiding my fridge?"

"I use the word 'picnic' very loosely here Spence."

He looked at her inquiringly.

"Well, this new guy she's dating works in some restaurant or other, and he's all like – 'Ooh, let me make lunch for you and the girls,' and here I'm thinking it's going to be something good like – I don't know, just something good. But it turns out the guy is a VEGETARIAN, and I just spent the last two hours sitting in the basement chewing on celery sticks and something that looked suspiciously like grass some wild ponies would eat. I am NOT a pony Spence!"

Spencer nodded his head solemnly. "That you are not," he agreed. In fact, as she lifted the spoon in the air for emphasis, he had to blink. He cocked his head and looked at her. She wasn't Sam. This time he imagined her as the inspiration for Lady Liberty. He shook his head to clear it and shifted a little farther away from her. Decidedly strange.

She paused for a minute. "I'm sorry; did you want some of this?" She offered him the spoon – for a heartbeat he considered taking it.

"Umm… no thanks Sam, I….really have to get to the Groovy Smoothie before my coupon expires. " He jumped up and rushed towards the door.

This evidently didn't sit well with Sam. She dropped the spoon and leaped from her seat, her eyes flashing dangerously. 'Not Lady Liberty,' he thought suddenly, 'she's Hera.'

"I think I'll go with you," she'd said in a most deliberate tone. "A smoothie is always good after chili."

Of course, he'd been trying to get _away_ from Sam, but crossing her suddenly seemed like a very foolish thing to do. With some trepidation, he had agreed.

Reaching the Groovy Smoothie, he'd only meant to be polite when he moved to open the door for her. Unfortunately, this only seemed to elevate her level of aggravation. Sam stepped in front of him and yanked the door open angrily, scanning the premises before entering. He wondered if he should just head for the hills before she –

"Spencer!" she'd called impatiently. "What did you want?" Sam stood at the counter tapping her foot.

"I'll…have whatever you're having Sam." That sounded like the safest answer.

"Two Blueberry Banana Blitzes," Sam ordered. T Bo started to offer her an onion on a stick but took one look at her face and thought better of it.

"Here you go Sam."

"Thanks T Bo. You're the man." She gave him a fist bump and moved to her favorite table. Spencer was still hovering by the door, considering the odds of success should he try to turn tail and run. 'Not good,' he thought, glancing at her again. Still Hera. So he sat.

Spencer watched her warily as she sucked the smoothie down. Maybe this would be ok after all; he could visibly see her blood pressure returning to normal with every sip. It must have just been the vegetables – Sam hated rabbit food. "Feeling better?" he asked cautiously.

She scanned the room again before nodding. "Yes, thank you."

The 'thank you' gave him pause; only then did he realize that SAM just bought him a smoothie. Sam never bought anything. There was _definitely _something wrong with her. Should he ask? It was never wise to provoke her, but if he failed to ask, he was walking blind. He would have absolutely no idea what might next set her off, and that seemed even more foolhardy.

"Sam," he'd started slowly, "I feel like you might be…upset with me about something. But I don't know what it is."

She looked at him over her smoothie, considering how to answer. MAYBE April would heed her warning and back off, making this conversation unnecessary. She didn't want to appear as though she was acting out of jealousy (although she was jealous,) and she definitely didn't want to appear like a lovesick schoolgirl. Spencer would never take her seriously then. Sam didn't like meddling in other people's romantic relationships, but she'd done it in the past when she thought her friends were making poor choices. April would definitely be a poor choice, but was now the time to point it out? No, she'd decided. She would wait to see what April did first.

"Sam?" he questioned again.

"You forgot to buy more bacon," she said with a shrug.


	4. Chapter 4

Jalapeno Blitz was not Spencer's favorite, but he made a point to buy whatever April was pushing. When she smiled up at him, he could momentarily forget how off balance he felt lately – all because of Sam. Sam could be moody, but he didn't believe for one second that bacon had anything to do with it. She wasn't talking, so he was still in the dark…and still having visions. So he took the Jalapeno Blitz with a smile, happy for the distraction.

"Hey Spencer, I'm about to go on my break. Do you mind if I come sit down with you?" April looked at him sweetly.

Hallelujah! Further distraction! "Not at all April," and he pulled the chair out for her.

"So I heard that you're an artist. Do you ever use live models?"

Spencer winced, remembering the time he'd tried to sculpt Sam. He'd thought better of it and ended up making a fish. "Usually no, but lately I've been thinking about doing some sketching…" his voice trailed off as he realized that literally all of the sketches in his head were visions of Sam.

"That's cool. " She looked up at him from under her lashes. "I was going to say that I'd be happy to sit for you, if you need someone. I always wanted to be put on canvas. "

Spencer shifted in his seat. Maybe that wouldn't be such a bad idea – the whole point was to stop thinking about Sam. There was, however, the small matter of the ring on April's finger… His eyes were drawn to the offending item; she was quick to notice.

"I'm separated," she said quickly, "it just wasn't working out. He left me alone all the time and –"

Spencer shook his head. "That's ok; you don't have to explain."

'Score one for me,' April thought as she rose from her seat. "That's sweet of you Spencer. You're a really good guy, you know?" He was startled when she came around the table and kissed him softly on the cheek. "I have to get back to work, but we can chat again tomorrow, ok?"

"I guess I'll…see you then," he replied, not sure exactly what he had just agreed to. Rising to leave, he gave her a quick wave and headed out the door - just as Sam headed in with Carly and Freddie in tow. He glanced at her quickly to gauge her mood and was instantly afraid. She was looking daggers at him and he still had _no idea_ what he'd done. For a panicked moment he wondered if she could somehow read his mind and was angry about the visions that lurked there. But that was absurd. She couldn't possibly know. In that instant he decided – he would definitely be talking to April again. He would definitely take her up on her offer. Because he had to get Sam **out of his head.**

"Hey kiddos," he said with false cheerfulness. "Gotta run; that fried chicken won't cook itself!" (He hoped the mention of chicken would placate her.) Just in case he added, "I remembered the bacon Sam, I swear!" And he took off as fast as he could without actually _running_ from the restaurant.

The girls settled at their table while Freddie made his way to the counter. From her usual spot, Sam glared at April. The insufferable woman stood behind the counter with a most self-satisfied smile on her face. Sam was sorely tempted to punch it off, but reminded herself that another stint in juvie was not in her best interest at the moment. Glancing back at Sam, Freddie said "You'd better make hers a triple extra large. I think she needs it. (We're talking _serious_ PMS,)" he confided in a low voice.

"No doubt," April agreed smugly, handing the smoothies to Freddie.

Sam was distracted from her venomous contemplation of the enemy by the entrance of a stylish man holding a bouncing baby. He was dressed in a business suit with a laptop slung over one shoulder and a diaper bag over the other. Sam watched with interest as he approached the counter.

"Hey babe, my flight leaves in two hours. I'm going to drop Ryan at my mom's but I wanted to see you before I left." He frowned. "I don't know why you insist on working in this place anyway – I bust my tail so you don't have to. You should have been home," he complained.

April pouted. "You know I don't like to rattle around the house all alone. At least there are PEOPLE around here."

This was obviously a long-standing argument; he waved her answer off and continued. "Anyway, I'll be in Minneapolis until Thursday night. Then I'll be home a couple of days but I have to leave for Dallas on Sunday. Make sure you don't forget Ryan's check up; he's due for shots this time."

She nodded, leaning over the counter to give the baby a quick kiss. "Hey sweetie, Mommy will see you soon! Have fun at Grandma's!" He held his arms out to her but she shook her head. "Sorry baby boy; Mommy's working right now. Daddy will take you to Grandma's – 'k 'k?"

Daddy frowned again. "I really don't like this April. Ryan misses you. **I **miss you. I'm gone enough for both of us. I wish you would quit."

"We can discuss this later Brad; I'm on the clock. Have a good flight. See you Thursday night. "

He sighed. "Ok, I'll call you when I get to the hotel. Ryan, say bye to Mommy."

"Bye Bye Mommy! Bye Bye!" The little boy rode on his daddy's shoulder, waving to April as they walked away.

Sam was stunned. "You have a BABY?" she whispered to herself. It changed nothing, and yet for Sam, it changed everything. The stakes had just gone up.


	5. Chapter 5

Sam stood in the kitchen drinking a glass of milk. Completely innocuous. There is nothing at all provocative about a teenaged girl drinking milk, at least, if that's all you see. Spencer wished that was all he saw. Today she was the figurehead for a sailing ship, and although the image was only in his head, he still shut his eyes to try to block it out.

She rinsed out the glass and looked at Spencer with concern. "Are you ok Spence?"

He didn't even know how to begin to answer. "I…think I have smoothie withdrawal. I'm sure I'll feel better after I get a Strawberry Splat." He turned and headed for the door.

Sam instantly bristled. "No," she said sharply. He looked at her in surprise. "I mean, I think you should lie down. You're not looking well."

Spencer was not sure how the universe turned upside down. Since when did Sam exhibit concern for other people's welfare? It worried him that he was so obviously off; he desperately needed a distraction. "Yeah, maybe after I get that smoothie." He fled the apartment; Sam stared after him.

Should she follow him over? The thought of leaving him alone with that conniving April no longer made her angry; it made her ill. Regardless of how it might appear, she had to go. She went.

April smiled at Spencer as he came through the door. "Hey there sweetie! You're late today. I thought you decided not to come. What are you having?"

He shrugged, looking a little lost.

"I've got just the thing. Kaleidoscope Candy. Just hold on … T Bo!" She yelled into the back. "I'm taking a break!" She slipped around the counter and boldly took his hand, leading him to a corner table. Handing him the smoothie, she sank into the chair across from him.

"So talk to me Spencer; you're looking a little out of sorts today. Is there anything I can do?" She smiled that sweet smile and reached across to pat his hand.

He took a breath and tried to calm down. "Yes, actually. I… was thinking that you would be a good model for some of the sketches I have in mind. Would you be interested in coming by this weekend?"

"Spencer, you know I'd be delighted. How about Sunday afternoon?"

He nodded. "Perfect."

"I'm looking forward to it! Here's my number; you can text me the details." This time when she rose from the table, she kissed him on the lips.

Sam stood in the doorway with both hands clenched tight. The situation was escalating; something had to be done. Maybe she could get Freddie to do his techie geek thing and search out some information on April's husband, and then she could call him and…. No. She discarded that plan almost immediately. She wanted April brought down, but not if it would take Spencer down too. Plus, there was someone else's welfare that was of paramount concern. Maybe she should tell Carly, and let her put the pressure on. But she really didn't want everyone to know how close Spencer was to making this mistake; somehow she was going to have to bring him to heel – all by herself. That left only one thing.

There were lots of things that Sam was good at. Insults – she was the queen of insults. Pranks – pretty good at those. Eating – definitely could put some food away. But speaking from the heart – not so good. However, desperate times call for desperate measures. She was going to have to speak up or forever hold her peace. And holding her peace was another thing that Samantha Puckett was never good at.

"Spencer," she called to him in a tone that sent a chill down his spine. "Carly needs you at home _right away_."

He broke away from April with a guilty start, turning to look at Sam. Oh no - she wasn't Sam. Today she was Medusa; he was quite certain her baleful stare would turn him to stone right where he sat.

"What's wrong?" he asked with apprehension.

"Just come home."

He looked apologetically at April and rose to leave. "I'm sorry; I have to go take care of …whatever this problem is. I'll call you about Sunday, ok?"

"Sure thing Spencer; I'll see you soon." Because she knew Sam was watching, she very deliberately stood on tip toe to give him another kiss before heading back behind the counter. Spencer started to wave but his arm wilted back to his side – Sam looked like she was going to erupt at any moment. He had to get her out of there before something very bad happened.

"Ok, I'm coming." She turned and he followed her out.

"What's this about Sam? If Carly needed something she would just call. "

He was bewildered when she changed the topic. "So Spencer, tell me what your plans are for Sunday."

"What does that have to do with-"

"Just TELL me!" She demanded in that ominous Puckett voice.

"April offered to model for some sketches I've been … thinking about. "

"And you think this is a good idea because…"

They reached Bushwell Plaza and he paused outside the door.

"I'm not sure that it is a good idea Sam; it's just the only one I had."

She stared at him before passing through the door. What was that supposed to mean?


	6. Chapter 6

They entered the apartment in silence. Spencer kept stealing anxious glances at Sam – he was the adult, but this was definitely the Sam show. He felt as though he had no control over what was about to happen. It was evident that SOMETHING was.

"Sam," he started, "I think you really need to tell me what's going on."

"No Spencer, I think it's the other way around. " She looked at him as if it should be perfectly obvious what she meant.

He shrugged helplessly; "Sam, I don't know what you want me to say. "

She was visibly upset, and this declaration didn't make her any happier. She kept _looking_ at him, expecting something, but he was at a loss.

"Spence, I really need to talk to you about something. I didn't WANT to, but I HAVE to. "

"Should I sit down?" he asked.

She shook her head. "Not down here; I don't want to be interrupted. Carly doesn't know anything about this and I don't want her to."

He was growing more anxious by the moment; this all sounded very serious. He gestured towards the stairs and they headed for the studio. That studio had seen its share of drama; he wondered what was in the next chapter.

Safely locked in, Sam advanced to stand in front of him. She drew a ragged breath and jumped in. "Tell me what you think you need from her."

"What?"

"Tell me Spencer; what do you think you need from her? I have to know, because I see you about to make a huge mistake and I can't let you. Do you need someone to listen? I'm all ears. Do you really need a model? Fine. Draw me." She grew louder as she continued. "I understand you're a 'grown up' guy; maybe you feel like you're not getting enough."

Spencer froze in shock as Sam started shedding clothing. There went the T shirt, closely followed by the layered tank. "Sam! What are you doing!"

"I guess this is your lucky day, because I can help you with that too." Her eyes teared up, but the diatribe continued. "It should show you how much I care about you that I will go to these lengths to keep you from walking off the cliff. So whatever it is you think you need her for, you're going to tell me right now. Whatever it is, you're going to get from me. " The tears spilled over. "You won't be taking anything from me that I wouldn't willingly give you anyway. That's not true of her. She's not free Spencer."

Thankfully she hadn't removed any more clothing; he was still rooted to the spot in disbelief. He wasn't sure he'd even processed what she just said to him.

"What did she tell you? That she's getting divorced? She has a BABY Spencer – did she tell you that? He's not even two years old! They came into the shop the other day – her husband and the baby. He was so sweet Spencer – big brown eyes and pudgy arms wrapped around his daddy's neck. " Her voice shook as she continued. "**I **had a daddy once Spence. He said he was coming back, but he didn't. Because he couldn't. Because my MOTHER and her flavor of the month club broke his heart. So my daddy left me. "

She was still crying. "If that baby's daddy leaves him, it is NOT going to be because of you. I won't let it. I love you too much, and that baby _needs_ his daddy."

He sank down to the floor in a daze. Among other things, Sam just said she loved him. "Sam, she said she's separated…"

"She LIED Spencer," Sam screamed. "That's what she DOES. She can see what kind of man you are; you care about people. Maybe she really is lonely; I don't know. But there's someone else she should be having that conversation with. Not you! So I'm asking you again to tell me, what do you need from her?"

Spencer closed his eyes and lay back on the floor. What he wanted to say – what he NEEDED to say was probably not the most "appropriate" or "responsible" answer. If stated truthfully, it would inevitably lead to a conversation that he should not be having. That conversation in turn would undoubtedly complicate his life regardless of the direction it ultimately took. In a way, he was actually afraid to answer – not only afraid of her reaction, but afraid of what his answer said about himself. However, he had never been a good liar. If he replied with something other than the truth, there was an excellent chance that she would see right through it anyway. He sighed and prepared to walk the plank.

"I needed a distraction. From you," he replied quietly.

Sam fell silent – it was her turn to stare. "What do you mean?" she whispered.

"I mean what I said. I was trying to get you out of my head. Quite honestly, it hasn't worked very well."

"You never told me-"

"Of COURSE I didn't tell you. How could I? It's really been very disturbing to me. I look at you and I just get these – _visions_, how I would draw you, or sculpt you, or paint you. " He glanced at her, still standing in front of him in a lace bra and jeans. They were unbuttoned. "Like now," he admitted miserably. "I can see the painting in my head – you're a mermaid. Some of them have been…inappropriate. Actually, a lot of them have been inappropriate. I was just trying to stop Sam; it's not like I'm in love with her. I didn't know about the baby, and I had no reason to disbelieve her when she said –"

"I know. You always think the best of people. I never learned to do that. It's one of the things I love about you." She sat down beside him, almost vibrating with the churned up emotions she was channeling.

"I still have to get you out of my head Sam."

She didn't reply at once, but when she did, she asked in a very small voice "why?"

"Why? I think that should be obvious." He sat up and rested his head in his hands. " I can't think of too many people who would approve of my involvement with you, at least, not at this point in your life. "

"Who says anyone else _has_ to approve? Whose life is it anyway? Not theirs! " Fiercely she went on, "you know Spence, I've pretty much been spending my life coloring outside the lines. A lot of people would say you're not the most conventional person either, even though you're much better at coloring. I frankly 'don't give a damn' whether anyone else thinks this is a good idea, but I care very much whether you do."

He spoke cautiously – she was clearly wound tight and could spring at any moment. "Sam, do you realize how far outside the realm of possibility this is?"

"No, actually I don't. For starters, no one can say anything against you. It's not like you've been pursuing me against my will. You haven't been 'pursuing' me at all. And who is there to complain? Me? I don't think so. My mother? That's a laugh. I told you about her flavor of the month club." Her voice was almost bitter when she continued, "you know what? She was so sure I would be just like her that's she's had me on birth control since the day I turned fourteen. In fact, she would probably be delighted for you to take me off her hands."

Her eyes glittered and the raw emotion rolled out from her in waves. He thought she had never looked more beautiful – or more vulnerable. "Sam, do you think you could possibly get dressed?"

Sam studied him, considering her reply. They had reached a critical junction – whatever the reasons, Spencer was weak in this moment. She could sense the possibility hovering around them. The opportunity was there for the taking – if she let it pass, she might never get another. She was torn -although she'd told April that she played to win, she didn't really want to "play" Spencer at all. She desperately wanted him to choose her of his own accord, not because he was manipulated into it. But when all was said and done, she DID want to win. She'd never believed she would ever get this chance - now here it was. It was a no-brainer really. The only question – how hard did she need to push? All this emotional energy had to go somewhere… and sometimes you had to make your own luck. "I could…" she allowed, just before she climbed into his lap and kissed him. "But I don't think I want to..."

There was no thinking – thinking just made his head hurt. Because there was no thinking, there was no thought of stopping her. There was only feeling. He felt completely attuned to Sam, alive in that moment when imagination and reality merged. The plethora of visions coalesced into just one - Sam in his arms. She belonged there. From the moment he acknowledged her hold on him, the path was set – hers to lead and his to follow. He let her take him where she wanted to go. Spencer wanted only what Sam wanted, and from the very bottom of her heart, Sam wanted only to be loved_._


	7. Chapter 7

A/N: Do I really need to say it? I don't own Alice in Wonderland…

o O o

Spencer lay still, taking stock of the situation. He imagined this is how Alice must have felt when she fell down the rabbit hole. Perhaps if he waited long enough, he'd even see the white rabbit hopping by – pocket watch in hand. The Mad Hatter would probably stop by next to wish him a very merry UN-birthday. The way things had been going lately, it wasn't impossible. Despite the visions, he had never allowed himself to entertain the notion of any kind of involvement with Sam. It had seemed out of the question – a fantasy of the most outrageous sort. But her presence here, right now, said something altogether different. Somehow impossible had evolved into merely improbable. Improbable, in its turn, morphed into possible and possible – disliking its hypothetical connotation, suddenly became a done deal. He was lying on the floor of the studio holding Sam, his head pillowed on a beanbag. She wound herself around him as he rubbed circles in the small of her back, trying to assimilate what had just happened. She had been urgent and demanding, seeking a cathartic release; it could not be said that he had his way with her – she had her way with him. On some level he understood that the space she needed him to fill was not physical.

Just outside the bubble of momentary calm, guilt circled. It was his job to hold the line. The fact that he hadn't stopped her – had no desire to stop her – illustrated how far gone he truly was. Spencer found himself glancing at the ceiling warily, waiting for the thunderbolt to smite him down.

"Sam?"

She shook her head and hushed him. "Not yet Spence. Please just hold me?"

He smiled wryly. "Sam, you've clearly already discovered that you have me wrapped, and I'd be happy to hold you until the cows come home. The more immediate issue is that Carly will be home much sooner than the cows. We need to talk about this, and it shouldn't be a three way conversation."

She sighed and started to reach for her clothes, but he caught her hand and stopped her.

"Let me." A small smile tugged at her lips – she'd undressed herself in the blink of an eye but stood docilely now, allowing him to put her back together, one piece at a time.

o O o

Sam had been sitting at the counter for no more than ten minutes when Carly trudged through the door. Still running replays in her head, she gave Spencer extra credit for getting them back where they were supposed to be just in the nick of time. While it chafed her to postpone their conversation, she agreed that it was far too soon to be soliciting input from the peanut gallery. "Hey Carls, how goes the research?" she asked in what she _hoped_ was a normal Sam voice.

Carly sighed and dropped a heavy stack of books with a thud. "I should have picked a topic that requires reading magazines instead of five hundred pounds of ancient tomes," she complained.

"Well why didn't you get the nub to carry them for you? He's usually one step behind, ever at your beck and call. "

"Freddie's stack is twice as big as mine. Overachiever. I didn't want to overload him. Speaking of research, why didn't you come with us? I hope you're not planning to wait until the last second to do your senior paper. No matter how much Principal Franklin likes you-"(Sam swallowed a laugh at this point,) "he's not going to let you graduate without it."

"No worries. It's under control," Sam assured her.

Carly looked at her skeptically. "Are you just telling me that so I won't nag you about it?"

"Cross my heart Carls. I'm not sure I'd want Ted to READ my paper, but I promise you that it will be done."

"Well ok, but I still think you should come with us to the library to work. That way we can be sure you're on track –"

A flash of irritation crossed Sam's face. "Carly, I don't need a babysitter, ok? I said I'll get the paper done."

"Right. Getting it done. Ok then!" she said brightly. "You know, I thought dinner would be ready by now. Did Spencer get caught up in one of his projects?"

Sam smiled. "In a manner of speaking. Now that you mention it, I'm absolutely starving!"

"Sam, you're always starving. We might as well order out at this point – nothing's even started. Honestly, Spencer is so distractible sometimes!"

"Yeah," Sam agreed at once, and couldn't resist adding "but that's why he's so lovable!"

Carly rolled her eyes and started flipping through take out menus. "How about Mexican?"

o O o

Spencer lay in bed Wednesday night, wide awake for reasons having nothing to do with too much Mexican food. Visions of Sam were now joined by the _memory _of her – the art made flesh. Unable to confide in anyone else, he was carrying on a conversation with himself. "Dad is going to string me up when he finds out what I'm doing," he muttered. "From 4800 miles away, he is going to come right through the phone and castrate me." Not** IF** he finds out, **WHEN**, as though it were already given, as though he had already made up his mind to continue. Had he made up his mind to continue? The more he thought about it, the less sure he was. There was no doubt that the sex was an outlet for her. What he didn't know – what it suddenly became absolutely critical to know – was whether that was _all_ it was. Sam's tone when she spoke about her mother and her mother's assumptions about her was telling. She did not want to see herself as like her mother, but the potential existed nevertheless. Fortunately, she also had the potential to be much, much more. He sighed. She had made him the focal point; or – he admitted, he had _allowed_ her to make him the focal point. How he responded to her now could set her down one path…or another.

He opened his sketch book and started on a new picture – Sam astride a carousel horse, sticking her tongue out impishly at the unseen viewer. Impish in the picture, but in the real world that was probably the wrong word. Capricious. That was the word he was searching for. Capricious, impulsive, and headstrong. But also sensitive, intelligent and motivated. "I will NOT enable you to follow in your mother's footsteps Sam…" While Spencer knew himself to be capable of casual relationships, he drew the line at Sam. He could not, and would not have a casual relationship with her. That way spelled disaster. "I know what this means to me; the question of the day is…what does it mean to you?"


	8. Chapter 8

o O o

A/N: I decided to split this chapter into two parts; these two have a LOT to say to one another! Part one follows…

o O o

Sam arrived home alone after school on Thursday, slipping quietly behind Spencer to watch his work. He was busy sketching her – but it wasn't her. In the picture Sam stood at the edge of a dark forest, holding a bow with arrow cocked, pointed towards the sky. Behind her stood the mighty stag, beloved of Artemis, mistress of the hunt.

"Do you really think I look like that?"

His mind elsewhere, Spencer jumped. "Hey Sam, I didn't hear you come in." Glancing from her to the drawing, he shrugged and said "when I look at you I see many possibilities."

"Are there more? Pictures, I mean?" she asked curiously.

"Yes," he admitted. "Quite a few. Ones that I could draw without you actually sitting for."

Ah – the visions. "So what kind of drawings _would_ you need me to sit for?" she probed. Spencer had said that she was in his head; she was extremely interested to know how she appeared there.

Changing the subject, he asked "where are Carly and Freddie? Seems like they haven't been around much lately."

"You didn't answer my question Spencer. I would really like to know."

He put his pencil down and turned to look at her. "Neither did you answer mine," he pointed out mildly. "The answer is in fact important, given that we have some things to discuss."

Sam bit her lip; she wasn't sure what to read into his tone. 'OK,' she thought, 'we'll play your way.'

"The brainiacs are at the library again. Senior papers are due in two weeks, give or take, and they're glued to the study carrels. Don't expect them anytime soon."

He frowned. "Shouldn't you be working on your paper then?"

"Nope. Mine's done. I didn't tell them that though – they might get complexes."

"Done?" He was skeptical – Sam wasn't known for her dedication to academics.

"Yep. Done. That paper is pure gold. A+ material. At first I thought Briggs was going to hate it – the topic is a little risqué for a high school term paper. But the more I think about it, the more I'm sure it's going to be her _favorite. _She probably reads those 'passionate' romances with pictures of half naked women with heaving bosoms on the covers."

Spencer's lips twitched. "Bosoms?"

"Yeah, you know –" she started to lift her shirt to demonstrate; he coughed and put a hand out to stop her.

"Never mind. What does Ms. Briggs choice of reading material have to do with your term paper?"

"Everything. My paper is on sexual mores in science fiction, with particular emphasis on the work of Robert Heinlein, who…" her voice trailed off. Spencer was just staring at her.

"You wrote that? YOU did? By yourself?"

"What?" she complained in an aggrieved tone. "Did you think me incapable?"

"Well, no, not exactly. It's… surprising." Lots of things about Sam were surprising.

"So it's something you would have expected from, say, Freddie, but not me? Guess what Spence. I can run circles around Benson. I just choose not to let him know that. It pleases him to think he can beat me at something, so I let him. Melanie's not the only one in the family with brains; I just apply them to other things. Most of the time. It's a good paper, trust me." Turning for the kitchen she asked, "Do we have any bologna?" She definitely needed to eat something if she was expected to have any kind of serious conversation.

Spencer shook his head. Only Sam could go from sexual mores to bologna in under thirty seconds. "Naturally we have bologna. And bacon. And ham. And meatballs. And probably some leftover burritos – if you didn't hit them last night before leaving. You know I won't let you starve," he said with a smile.

Sam relaxed a little bit; at least he was joking. That was a good thing, right? Bologna in hand, she crossed the room and kissed him. "I know. Who else takes such good care of me?"

He tugged her over to the couch and they both dropped down on it. "And that's pretty much what I want to talk to you about," he started quietly. "Sam, what did you expect to be the end result of our conversation yesterday? I'm talking about before –" he paused, finding himself unexpectedly reluctant to finish that thought. "Just before."

"The bottom line was to stop you from getting involved with April. It wasn't about me, at least at first – you were my friend. I mean, you ARE my friend; I just hope that now you're something else too. I didn't know I was in your head; you have no idea how happy I am to be there. I hope you're not still planning on trying to excise me." She looked at him so hopefully – he just wanted to pull her into his arms and hold her but they were nowhere close to finished with this dialogue.

"That depends," he said. He had to proceed with caution.

"It depends on what?" she asked with some alarm.

"It depends on what you expect to happen now that we're on after. It depends on what role you see me playing. Sam, I feel like we really took this out of order, that - "

Oh chizz – she _had_ pushed too hard. "Spence," she interrupted, "are you saying that it was too easy? That it must not have meant anything to me? Because that is totally untrue." He could see her starting to get worked up.

"Sam, I'm not saying that at all. I'm saying that I don't KNOW what it means to you. I'm saying that IF I had thought about it ahead of time, and IF we had mutually agreed to an 'other than friendship' kind of relationship, I would have done things differently. I'm not sure what it is that you want from me."

"Spencer…" she was uncertain what answer would best satisfy him and was very afraid that whatever she did say would turn out to be the wrong thing. Yes, there had been an element of calculation in her actions, but that didn't change the fact that she loved him. It didn't change the fact that this was a relationship she wanted. She watched him closely as she continued –"…there is NO ONE else that could have given me what I needed yesterday. I wouldn't have been IN that state except for you. " She twisted a bangle anxiously around her wrist. "Spence, the words are hard for me. The only thing I'm sorry about is that I couldn't find the right words to tell you, so I showed you. And maybe you needed the words to understand what I was saying. I LOVE you. I CHOSE you. I would do it again. What I _want_ from you, more than anything else, is for you to give us a chance. "


	9. Chapter 9

o O o

A/N: I owe "manic" to WhiteKnightro; as usual, his observations are spot on. I had never given much thought to _why_ Spencer behaves the way he does. There's a reason for everything.

o O o

Sam sat quietly, waiting. She didn't know what else she could say. Either he would move past the guilt she'd saddled him with, or he wouldn't. He would agree with her, or he wouldn't. He would love her... or he wouldn't. She wanted to _believe_ that he would, but she tried to prepare for the "wouldn't." After all, isn't that what always happened? In the end, they always walked away.

Spencer tried to read through the words to hear what Sam was _not _saying. It was hard having a conscience. How easy things would be if he could just go with the flow – say "whatever you want Sam," absolving himself of any liability for the relationship and its consequences. But he couldn't do that. This was Sam. He had to make sure that his words and actions would build her up – not tear her down.

Feeling like the tightrope walker without a net, he took a breath before answering her. "Sam," he started carefully, "because of yesterday …" and stopped again. It really was ridiculous that he couldn't say the word "sex" to someone with whom he'd already _had _sex. He started again. "I find myself in a position I never expected to be. As you pointed out, I wasn't pursuing you – and wouldn't have. But you've opened this door and invited me in, and I'm taking you at your word that you've thought this through. If I'm going to do this – if WE'RE going to do this, we're both going to have to work at it. I don't have the Everything You Always Wanted to Know About Samantha Puckett But Were Afraid to Ask instruction manual. I'm going to need you to be very honest with me, and tell me what you want and what you need. Just like if you plant a tree in the wrong kind of soil, or give it too much water or not enough, or it's in the shade when it needs to be in the sun – "

Sam had to smile at his long-winded metaphor. "I think I get where you're going Spence."

"Even so Sam, I've known you for a very long time. Don't make the mistake of thinking that means I can read your mind. You have to play straight with me Sam," he insisted, "and you have to hold me to the same standard. I spend a lot of time goofing off – you probably don't remember, but I wasn't always manic Spencer."

Sam was actively listening – it certainly wasn't unheard of for a conversation with Spencer to take a detour, but this one was more intriguing than usual. This was a story she'd never heard before. She looked at him expectantly, waiting for him to continue.

"'Manic Spencer' developed over time as a way to support Carly – to help her laugh when she was sad, to try to fill her world with some kind of joy. " He looked at her thoughtfully. "I think you need something else from me Sam, and I've been playing 'Manic' for a pretty long time. If this has any chance of working, I'm going to have to stop playing overgrown kid. " To himself he added, 'you're going to make me grow up…'

She wasn't sure whether he perceived that as a good thing or not. "That's ok Spence, because even though 'Manic,' as you call him, cheers me up too, it's not the manic that I'm in love with. It's the person who stepped up. It's the person who thought Carly needed manic. Do you see?"

There was the hopeful look again – Sam almost holding her breath, waiting for him to choose whether to step through the door…or slam it shut.

He closed his eyes to think. The moment of truth had arrived; he had to come down upon one side of the fence or the other. He had to decide whether he believed, as she did, that he could be the man she wanted and needed him to be. He let the visions pass through his head, one after another – the many faces of Sam, and the knowledge sunk in that she was voluntarily _choosing_ him to be the one to shape her into her next incarnation. When he opened his eyes and exhaled, the answer rose readily to his lips. "Ok Sam." Love just IS.

She virtually leaped into his arms, almost crying. She'd been so afraid… For the longest time, he just held on.

At some point she raised her head to look at him. "Spence?"

"Mmm hmm?"

"I'm famished!"

The grin spread across his face. That was his Sam.

"And Spence?"

"Mmm hmm?"

She rose to head for the kitchen. "I'm not ready to share."

He laughed, "I wouldn't expect you to. I was expecting you to say that what's on your plate is yours, and what's on MY plate is yours. Isn't that the way it works?"

She shook her head. "No, I mean I'm not ready to share US. Maybe it's selfish, but I want to keep you all to myself for a little while. Is that ok?"

Was it ok? It was definitely ok. It gave him more breathing room to figure out how he was going to defend this relationship, because there was little doubt in his mind that he was going to have to do just that.

"I don't think it's selfish Sam; we're both entitled to the time. For lack of a better analogy, this is a new frontier. It's possible that the natives are hostile."

"That may be," she agreed with a smile, "but the natives stand no chance against Samantha Puckett."

Looking at her, he had to agree. There she stood – Samantha, Queen of the Amazons.


	10. Chapter 10

Spencer's phone chirped while he was washing the dishes. "Hey Sam, could you get that? My hands are wet," he called over his shoulder.

"Sure Spence." She glanced at the display and hesitated. Carly. Would pre-Spencer Sam have answered his phone? She shrugged. Pre-Spencer Sam had always done what she wanted, so why shouldn't she continue to do so?

"Hi Carls, what's shakin'?"

"Oh hi Sam. Freddie and I stopped for smoothies. Did you guys want anything?"

Without consulting him, she answered promptly "Sure, Spencer wants Tingleberry Blitz and I'll have Renegade Razz, thanks! "

"Sam," Spencer interjected, "We just ate. I really don't need a smoothie. And tell Carly that her dinner's on the stove, so she doesn't need one either."

"But I might want it later!" she protested.

He raised an eyebrow. "But** I** still don't need one."

"No, I mean I want mine now. I might want YOURS later."

"Of course. Carry on then." He smiled and returned to the dishes.

Carly sighed on the other end of the phone. "Is that yes?"

"Spencer says dinner is on the stove, so you don't need a smoothie. " Reluctantly she added, "He really doesn't want one. But I'll still take the Razz. Thanks Carls."

"Ok Sam, and tell Spencer that April said hello," Carly added.

"RIIIIGHT," she replied, drawing the word out. "I'll be sure to do that. See you in a few."

She frowned as she disconnected the call. "You know Spencer, there's one thing we forgot to discuss. What exactly are you planning to do about April?"

When he turned around, he was wearing his "thinking" face. Uh oh. "Ok, spit it out. I can see something's percolating there."

"Actually, I'm thinking that I _will_ draw April. Or it may turn out to be a painting; I'll have to see-"

"WHAT? You can't be serious! I TOLD you I'll sit for you if you need a model. You're drawing me already. You don't need to draw her; please don't do it." The insecurity was apparent in her voice.

He instinctively moved closer to calm her down. "Sam, listen to me. I have an idea, and I think you'll agree with me when you hear it. Trust me when I say that she could never take your place, and I have no intention of putting her in any picture that should be yours. There IS a picture that should be hers, but I'll let you decide. If you think I'm wrong, then I won't do it. Ok?"

A small nod. "Ok, tell me about April's picture."

Sam listened quietly while Spencer explained his idea. She mentally walked around it a few times, gave it a couple of kicks, and grudgingly pronounced it good. She sighed. "You're right. It should be April's picture, and it's the right thing to do. But I'm coming with you on Sunday," she added with a growl. Not that she didn't trust Spencer, but April was an entirely different story.

He started to reply "I wouldn't have it any other way," but the words faded out of his head when her arms wrapped around his neck. "I love you Spence." And she kissed him. When she emerged for air she whispered, "That's for being right. And for giving us a chance." He tried to shake off the memory of the studio - the memory of surrender and being surrounded by Sam as she continued "you told me about April's picture. Now tell me about mine…"

He had to shake his head and promise "later…" nodding towards the scrape of a key in the lock.

He felt the small huff of disappointment – or was it frustration ? against his neck before she slipped away from him and flopped upside down on the couch. When Carly walked in, Sam's legs were hooked over the back of the cushions and her hair spilled onto the floor.

"Sam, what on earth are you doing?" Carly asked.

"Digesting stroganoff," she answered calmly.

"Upside down?"

"Right side up was getting boring."

"Okaaay… I brought you the smoothie, but I'm pretty sure you can't drink it like that."

"Oh, you'd be surprised what I can do upside down Carly," but she obligingly sat up and accepted the proffered drink.

As she'd no doubt intended, Spencer used the distraction to disappear up the stairs. The girl was good – always one step ahead. Whether she was good enough remained to be seen. He reflected that it was going to be much more challenging to keep this relationship under wraps than he had initially expected. He himself had been noticeably out of sorts even before Sam. With her imprint on him, he felt like he must glow in the dark. He could control what came out of his mouth, but now that he was tuned to her frequency, the non-verbals between them spoke for themselves. And Sam – he shook his head. One part of her wanted to monopolize him, to soak up all his attention like the desert flower in a rainstorm. That part of her didn't want to share, and that part was currently in control. But he was sure there was another part. And _that_ part wanted to stand on the rooftop and scream to all of Seattle that he belonged to her. It was the part that caused her to whoop like a maniac years ago at Chili My Bowl, when an unknown customer left her an exceedingly large tip… Over time that part had grown up with her, but it was still there whispering in her ear. And that part would not be able to resist dropping hints along the way. Heading for the shower, he decided that he'd better be prepared. They might buy some time simply because this was unexpected. People would look at them and see what they expected to see. They would see Spencer, and they would see Sam. They would see one and one. But at some point, possibly sooner than later, they were going to see Spencer & Sam. They would not see one and one. They would see two.


	11. Chapter 11

A/N: Wile E. Coyote is not my creation…

o O o

April glanced at the message for what felt like the hundredth time. Brad was gone again- off to Dallas, so she was free to do as she chose. For some reason she didn't feel free at all. Without the benefit of actually SEEING him, she had only his words to go by. The words puzzled her; she was almost certain she hadn't said… but there they were still, staring back at her. It was disorienting really, to have started down a path you thought you knew, only to find yourself someplace else.

Meet me at the park 2 blocks over – Sunday/2PM. Bring the baby. Spencer

If she was going, it was time to go. She glanced over at Ryan, who was trying to play peek-a-boo with the cat. The cat wasn't at all impressed. She smiled and rose to find his jacket. Oh well. At least it was a nice day; if nothing else, Ryan would have fun playing in the dirt. She buckled him in the stroller and set off for the park.

o O o

Spencer sat alone on a bench, alternately watching for April and keeping an eye on Sam & company on the other side of the park. Sam was restless, and he worried that her discontent would manifest itself in some unexpected and likely undesirable manner. Besides her obvious disquiet over April, they hadn't had more than ten minutes together since Carly's return from the Groovy Smoothie on Thursday evening. The ten minutes, stolen while Carly was in the shower, had only served to stoke her fire. He'd congratulated himself for remembering about the hairbrush – the rhythmic stroking of her hair always calmed her.

For now, she appeared to be under control. He knew she would have preferred today to be just the two of them, but couldn't decide upon a believable approach that wouldn't tip their hand. In the end she'd convinced Carly and Freddie that they'd been spending too much time at the library and were in need of fresh air. The friends were currently using landscaping ties as balance beams, tiptoeing across with eyes closed and arms outstretched, the girls giggling every time one of them stepped into empty space. This wouldn't ordinarily seem difficult, except that Sam had made them all spin around in circles before starting. Surprisingly, Freddie was unerring, placing one foot confidently after another until reaching the end whereupon he stopped and retraced his steps in reverse.

"Show off!" Carly's voice carried across the park. Freddie grinned and bowed. "Thank you, thank you. Come on, I'll push you guys on the swings."

Spencer started to relax. Freddie could handle the girls – he'd had years of practice. At that moment it occurred to him to wonder why he never _worried_ about Freddie with the girls. What was it about Freddie that inspired his trust? Certainly Freddie had done as much growing up as Carly and Sam. He studied the trio thoughtfully. He pictured them on a see-saw, Carly perched on one side and Sam on the other, with Freddie standing at the fulcrum shifting this way or that, always balancing them out. While Carly and Freddie didn't know it, Sam had removed herself from the equation. What would happen to the other two? Simple physics said that the see-saw must tilt away from its weightless end. While Wile E. Coyote could run off the cliff and hover in thin air, his resistance to gravity lasted only so long as he didn't realize his predicament. Likewise, as soon as Sam's "absence" was discovered, Freddie must inevitably rebalance. Did hearts work that way? Probably not, he conceded. Hearts had minds of their own, and were entirely unconcerned with what the rest of the logical universe thought they should do. At any rate, it would be interesting to see the dynamic evolve – nature abhors a vacuum.

He'd been so busy with his thoughts that he didn't notice April until she'd almost reached him. He smiled at the toddler in the stroller; Sam was right – he was a cute little guy. "Hi April. Who is this inquisitive little fellow?" The child was already reaching for the strap of Spencer's camera.

April sighed. "Hi Spencer. This is my son Ryan. Ryan, stop that. Leave Mr. Spencer's camera alone," she scolded.

"Very good to meet you Ryan," Spencer said solemnly, holding out a finger for the boy to grab. "May I take him out?" he asked April.

"Sure,"she said cautiously.

"Come on Ryan, there are lots of fun things to do here." Spencer chatted to the child as he unbuckled the straps, freeing him from the stroller and setting him carefully next to his mother. The boy immediately made a beeline for the monkey bars. Spencer frowned; he wasn't sure Ryan was big enough, but soon realized that it wasn't climbing that interested the child, but the pile of mulch that surrounded the playground equipment. He plopped down on the ground and started digging. Spencer powered up the camera and snapped a few pictures.

"So April," he started, still watching Ryan, "I've been thinking that I may have given you the wrong impression." He'd decided that he wasn't going to call her on her misrepresentation, electing instead to act as though he had made the mistake. In a way, he had. "I'm not actually… in the market for a relationship right now. Your energy is artistically appealing; I picked up on that, and if I came across as looking for something more, I apologize. I'm sure the fault is entirely mine."

For once April was at a loss for words. This was so totally out of sync with what she had hoped would come out of the afternoon; she couldn't immediately formulate a response.

"You know," he continued, "it's really a shame that Ryan's dad isn't around to see these moments. Ryan won't be little forever. So I thought you, at least, will want to remember them. " Spencer picked the boy up and headed for the slide. "He is big enough?" he asked before setting him at the top. April nodded mutely and moved to the bottom to be ready to catch him. "Anyway," he continued, letting go of the boy, "I'm going to do a picture for you –" he moved a few steps to get the perfect angle – "who knows?" he added innocently, snapping the picture just in time to capture the look of simple joy on the child's face as he slid into his mother's open arms. She could not help smiling in return. "Maybe you can show it to Dad and he'll realize what he's missing."

April couldn't decide how she was supposed to feel about this. She heard what he said; she also heard what he meant. He'd called her out without actually laying any blame on her at all. Spencer watched the emotions play across her face until finally, she laughed. "I was right about one thing at least. You ARE a really good guy Spencer." She picked Ryan up and set him back at the top of the slide, holding his hand while he slipped to the bottom, laughing all the way.

Spencer nodded, accepting the compliment. "You'll have to give me a couple of weeks. I have some other…projects underway at the moment. I can probably have it wrapped up by, say, Mother's Day?"

Another laugh. "I'm sure Mother's Day will be perfect."

Having thus agreed, Spencer accompanied mother and son around the park for another half hour or so, snapping pictures but otherwise refraining from interaction with either. When April announced it was time for Ryan's nap, turning away with a murmur of thanks, Spencer watched them go with a small wave and a smile. The wave was for the baby. The smile was for Sam, who outside of April's line of sight, had just blown him a kiss.


	12. Chapter 12

Sam was never so happy to see a Monday dawn. Monday meant Carly and Freddie would return to the library and she could be assured of at least two hours of uninterrupted time with Spencer. She'd been climbing the walls, unable to speak freely and unable to touch him. It was maddening to have him so close yet be unable to interact with him in any meaningful way. She'd lost count of the number of times she'd had to literally bite her tongue to keep from saying something that would give them away. What good was it to say she was keeping him to herself, when in fact she'd had none of his time at all?

She drifted through the school day and flew out of her seat as soon as the last bell rang, failing even to say goodbye to Carly or Freddie in her mad dash for the door. Freddie shot an inquiring look Carly's way, but she just shrugged. "No idea. Maybe T Bo has barbecue on a stick today. "

Freddie shook his head and sighed. "Why is it that we work our fingers to the bone and Princess Puckett gets to feast on barbecue?"

"It's the way of the world Freddie. " She gave a sigh of her own. "Let's get to it; I think my pile of books multiplies when I'm not looking."

"That puny pile? You call that a stack?" he teased as they headed out the door. She punched him good-naturedly in the shoulder.

"If you were a girl, I'd call you Goody Two Shoes!"

"Yeah, well I'm not, so you'll have to call me something else. Like…ummm…I know! The Highbrowed Heart Throb!"

Carly clapped her hand over her mouth to keep from laughing out loud. "Someone has been paying far too much attention to the notes left on our site by various and sundry silly gooses."

"Geese, " he corrected her automatically. "Silly geese. I mean – wait a minute! Who said they're silly?"

"And I know it's geese. Gooses just sounds so much better!"

"Fine, whatever," he grumbled as they stepped onto the bus.

Carly nodded in satisfaction. If she got the last word, it was only her due.

o O o

Spencer looked up from his drawing when he heard the door. Today he was working on a whimsical picture of Sam blowing bubbles, inspired by the kiss she'd sent his way at the park. He thought it was quite fetching, capturing a side of her that people seldom saw. Plus, he especially liked it because it was one of the series of drawings of Sam as herself. He started to ask her opinion of the work in progress but Sam had other ideas.

It was, he thought, an exceedingly good thing that he watched Celebrities Underwater on a regular basis. The host frequently gave advice on how best to hold one's breath for extended periods of time. This was going to become a critical skill – not only did she take his breath away in a figurative sense, she was quite adept at doing so literally as well.

"I missed you!" she whispered, holding him tightly. "I missed you terribly, even though you were here all along."

"I know Sam. I missed you too," he answered honestly.

"Can I stay home from school tomorrow? I'm feeling exceedingly deprived of your time and attention and tomorrow – "

"Is your birthday," he finished for her. He was frankly surprised that she'd even bothered to ask permission. Sam did what Sam wanted. He wasn't sure what significance he should attribute to the fact that she'd asked HIM. Was this just an extension of their co-conspirator mentality? Was she seeking his blessing on her typical Sam delinquency? She really had no regard for her mother's authority – was she declaring an intention to accept his? Or maybe it was simply what it appeared to be – her desire to spend her birthday with him.

He smiled and shook his head. "You're not going to trip me up with that one Sam. For the record, I cannot sanction an unauthorized absence from school. Off the record… if you happen to miss the bus in the morning, well, I've been misplacing my keys a lot lately. I might not be able to find them to give you a ride."

The delighted smile reached her eyes and sparkled back at him. "I might make a rebel of you yet Spence."

He had to laugh. "You think?"

"Oh, that's right. I've already done that." Her tone was saucy but her expression was soft, and when she entwined their fingers and tugged him towards the stairs, he followed without a word.

o O o

Spencer was certain there could be no more beautiful creature in the entire universe than the one currently lying sated in his bed. He'd truly _meant_ to do things differently the second time around, but Sam approached lovemaking in the same way she approached everything else – head on, in charge and taking no prisoners. He had no will to oppose her. Only now as she snuggled against him could he begin to feel her tension ease. This was one of the things he would have to change – it wouldn't be easy. He felt like this wasn't just Sam being assertive. It was an insurance policy – the "you know you want me, look what I can do – you don't want to let me go" statement. Of course, he did want her, had experienced firsthand what she could do, and had no plans to let her go as long as this is where she wanted to be. But it wasn't the image he wanted her to have of herself and he couldn't allow her to make it the cornerstone of a relationship with him. Pam Puckett cast a long shadow.

He brushed a tangle of curls away from her face and kissed her gently. "Sam, the siren song needs to stop ok?"

She stiffened in his arms. "What do you mean?"

"You don't have to try so hard to hang on to me this way. I'm not going anywhere Sam; I promise. I told you that we have to work at this; that means working on building a real relationship based on real feelings - "

She pulled away from him, cutting him off before he could finish his thought. "Are you saying this isn't REAL Spencer? Didn't we already talk about this? Didn't I tell you that I CHOSE you and I would do it again? So because I did, you're questioning my motivation. Am I not making you happy?"

Ok, perhaps he could have selected a better time to have this conversation. It was rather difficult to diplomatically say 'it shouldn't be all about the sex,' under the circumstances."Sam," he said in his calmest voice, "please don't put words in my mouth. You're most assuredly not making me UNhappy. I'm just trying to tell you that it's important to me that we can relate to each other on other levels. Sweetheart, don't misunderstand, you're sending me to some higher plane of existence -but ALL of you needs to be there with me. "

Sam settled back against him, resting her head on his chest. "You think I don't know," she said softly. "But you're wrong. I do. You only know the story from the outside looking in, but I – I know it from the inside looking out."

"What story is that?"

She closed her eyes, listening to the steady beat of his heart. "It goes like this. Once upon a time there was a little girl whose Daddy left her and whose mother was so busy with her boy toys that she hardly noticed the little girl at all. The girl thought there must be something wrong with her. Maybe she wasn't pretty enough, or smart enough, or well behaved enough for her Daddy to stay or her Mommy to notice her. So she tried very hard to be pretty and smart and well behaved. She went to beauty pageants and won awards, but still her Daddy didn't come back. Still her mother didn't notice her. Or if she did, it was only long enough to tell the girl that she would never be as pretty or as smart or as well behaved as her sister. 'OK,' the little girl thought. 'Trying to be good is not working.' So she tried other things. Impulsive and wild and sometimes even dangerous things, because she thought that surely THEN someone would pay attention. "

Spencer was still, hearing her words but _feeling_ the memories run through her as she rested in his arms.

"The little girl grew into a bigger girl. Her mother didn't compare her to her sister as often anymore. Instead, she looked at the girl and said 'the apple doesn't fall far from the tree.' How many other people looked at her and said the same thing? So maybe the girl believed it too, and she knew that she was broken. But all is not lost, because once upon a time there was also a man. Maybe he had x-ray vision, because when HE looked at the girl, he didn't just see an apple. He looked at the girl and saw the shapes of all the people she could be. And when she was impulsive and wild and dangerous, he didn't give up on her. He was everything the girl ever wanted, and she loved him. So the girl decided to give him a gift to show him that she loved him, but she should have told him first. That he's not the only one who sees that she's broken. If he THINKS he's the only one, he would be wrong. Because there is no one who knows the girl's weaknesses more than the girl herself. If sometimes she tries too hard, it's only because she's still afraid. Afraid that she'll never be pretty enough, or smart enough, or good enough for anyone to love her. "

She paused for a moment before continuing quietly, "So don't think that I don't know Spencer. I know myself, and I also understand what you actually agreed to when you decided to give this a chance. You didn't say it, but I know. You believe that you can make me whole. _Maybe_ the little girl believes it. If her sister can be pretty and smart and well behaved, _maybe_ the girl can too. They are, after all, identical twins…" She giggled hysterically. "_Maybe_ our girl is actually the smarter one, because SHE, at least, _knows _that she's broken... Did I tell you that Melanie's sleeping with her drama coach? Thirty-two years old – married with a three year old. She texted me a couple of weeks ago; she thinks he's the greatest thing since sliced bread. I laughed until I cried – Mom couldn't see an apple when it stared her in the face."

"Sam –" Lord, he hardly knew where to start. He'd asked her for more and she'd given it. Here, in fact, was the true gift in her story. And he of the x-ray vision, the one who could see the many faces of Sam, had still managed to underestimate her. He felt like he'd let her down, and he vowed he wouldn't do it again. "Mädchen, you are far more than pretty and smart and well behaved. You are _beautiful_, and _brilliant_, and a force to be reckoned with. And the man loves you too." He kissed her, because the moment seemed to call for it. And although the afternoon was waning, he decided that there was just time enough. Samantha was not the only one with gifts to give.


	13. Chapter 13

o O o

A/N: First, it's been a long time, but readers will probably recall that the Heart of the Ocean was the brilliant blue diamond worn by Rose on the Titanic when she posed for her famous sketch. At the time the movie was originally released (yes, yes, I know - I didn't write the movie…) 20th Century Fox authorized a limited edition replica made by J. Peterman. These are collector's items now, and if you are willing to shell out several hundred dollars, you too can own a reproduction of that stunning piece.

Second, while Sam can't put her finger on the tune she's humming, I can, and since I like you all so much, I'm going to tell you what it is. _All Your Life, _by The Band Perry – apologies if you don't care for country, but it's relevant to Sam.

Third, (yes, I promise that I am in fact going to post an actual chapter after this excessively chatty author's note,) while I'm not a big fan of Disney channel shows, the notable exception (HUGE, really) is _Phineas and Ferb _, which has to be my favorite cartoon of all time. Alas, I didn't create that show either. The upcoming song and dance is a reference to "Rollercoaster: The Musical!" in which Phineas' trademark line, "I know what we're going to do today" is put to music.

o O o

As Spencer wrapped Sam's birthday present, the thought crossed his mind that it was as much for him as it was for her. He was in fact second-guessing himself, worrying that he was sending the wrong message, but he was so taken with the vision that he couldn't help himself. It had been the first and was still the most compelling – Sam and the Heart of the Ocean. He'd wondered if the sketch would be more powerful if it were an AFTER drawing instead of a before. Maybe, he'd thought, he should draw them both and find out. ..

o O o

Sam woke in her own bed on the morning of her eighteenth birthday and wished she were somewhere else. With some satisfaction she pondered the fact that she didn't actually have to stay here anymore. Sure, the school system had a claim on her for an ever-shortening span of time, but Pam Puckett was officially done. Would Spencer let her move in? Well, of course he would let her move in to the apartment, but would he let her move in with _him? _That was not at all the same thing. She sighed, probably not. He would want to do "the right thing," and wait until she graduated, although in her mind it was splitting hairs. What difference would two months make? On the other hand, did she really want to risk incurring the wrath of the absent Colonel Shay, who was still footing all the bills for Spencer's household? And Granddad Shay still kept an eye on things – surely he would see this as a bad influence on Carly, who wouldn't be 18 herself until July. Oh well – she'd put up with her mother for the last eighteen years. She supposed she could do it for a little while longer.

She dragged herself to the kitchen in search of something edible, which was probably a waste of time. Her mom was (surprisingly) still dating the vegetarian and the fridge was likely to be filled with nothing but bean sprouts and tofu. And here was the birthday note from Mom, (at least she remembered this year,) held up with a magnet that said "Everyone needs lovin'". "Touché Mother," Sam muttered under her breath as she scanned the message. "Happy birthday kid. I'm peelin potatoes with Stanley today so I'll be late. I know you've got a guy around somewhere; don't forget to pick up your pills. Ciao, Mom." Sam pocketed the twenty dollar bill that was stuck behind the note and shrugged. Typical.

Deciding to call her sister before jumping in the shower, Sam perched on a barstool and dialed. Straight to voicemail. Also typical. "Hey Mel, just calling to wish you a happy birthday. Hope everything goes your way today. Check in when you get a chance – can't wait to hear what the fabulous Neal has planned for you." In an unconscious echo of her mother, she signed off with "Ciao."

Even though she was 0 for 2 this morning on the birthday greetings, Sam stepped into the shower with a light heart. The rest of the day belonged to Spencer, and thus it could only get better. Humming a tune she couldn't quite place, Sam dressed quickly and slipped out of the house, headed for home.

o O o

Breakfast was waiting on the counter when Sam stepped off the elevator and into Spencer's arms. Taking a deep breath, she smiled and said "SO much better than sprouts!"

"Happy birthday Sam. I see you managed to miss the bus this morning, " he said with mock seriousness. "Just let me look around for my keys and –" She silenced him with a kiss.

"Silly me – I didn't miss the bus. I must have gotten on the wrong one! Oh well; I'm here now – may as well stay. Whatever shall we do today?"

"Well first you're going to eat your breakfast. Then you're going to open your birthday present, and THEN you can tell me what we're going to do today. I've cleared my _extensive_ social calendar until 3PM – after that I expect the rest of your peeps will be arriving to help celebrate your birthday."

"Can't argue with that plan," she agreed, carefully constructing a sandwich out of the contents of her plate. She took a bite and closed her eyes. "I love you Spence," didn't quite come out that way around the mouthful of bacon and egg biscuit, but that was ok. It still made him smile.

He settled beside her at the counter and handed her a box wrapped in blue paper and curling silver ribbons. "Before you open it, I just want to tell you that I got it because I want you to have something to remind you that you're beautiful. "

She leaned in to kiss him. "I have you for that. I've already gotten everything I wanted for my birthday Spence; anything else is just icing on the cake."

Spencer perked up. "Hey, I made you a cake, and the oven didn't even catch on fire!"

"Well, it's still early," she teased, wiggling the ribbon off the end of the package. The box inside was covered in crushed velvet; Sam brushed her fingers lightly over the fabric before opening it.

"The necklace is a reproduction; it's crystal" he said quietly, "but I had the earrings made to match; those are real stones." The sapphires were set in white gold and had cost a small fortune, but he would never tell her that. She'd never accept them if she knew.

Sam simply stared. The Heart of the Ocean glittered back at her, a perfect miniature resting on either side. "This is really for me?" she breathed, not believing that anyone could value her so highly. "Spencer….no one has ever given me anything so beautiful. I'm just – blown away. I don't…. Spence, I don't even have the words; you know I don't. Thank you." Because she was much better at showing than telling, Spencer wasn't surprised when she vacated her seat in favor of his, and her arms slipped around his neck.

"They pale in comparison Mädchen, but I did the best I could."

She rested in his lap for a few moments before suddenly bouncing up with a puckish grin. Her feet tapped out a show tune rhythm and she warbled theatrically – "Hey Spence, I know what we're gonna do today…"

"And?"

"Surely you didn't give me the Heart of the Ocean and not think of Rose. Although I'm planning for us to come to a much better end," she added thoughtfully. "You and I have a date with a necklace." He could see the idea take hold; she was captivated by it. "You have to draw it Spence – it will be –"

"Breathtaking," he finished. "I was rather hoping you'd say that."

She turned to look at him speculatively. "You meant to draw it all along didn't you. It was the picture you needed me to sit for."

"It was your picture, yes," he admitted, "but that's not why I chose the gift. It's what gave me the _idea_ for the gift, but I intend for you to have it whether or not you ever sit for the sketch. I don't want you to think that-"

"Spencer! I'm not angry with you. On the contrary," she laughed, flipping her T shirt carelessly onto the floor, "I'm…empowered. I'm energized. I'm…on top of the world. I'm Samantha Puckett, and today I am art. Adorn me Spence; there's an empty page waiting to be filled."

The vision flashed in front of his eyes, except this time she lived and breathed. The picture was Sam's and there was only one possible title for a work of this magnitude. The Goddess Awakes.


	14. Chapter 14

o O o

If Spencer hadn't seen it himself, he would never have believed Sam could be so still for so long. Although she rested motionless, there was an alertness about her that belied her languid pose. She focused on him with an intensity that would have been disconcerting if he were not himself equally focused on her. To his eye every breath she drew imbued her with more energy – a radiant nimbus of pheromonal magic. His hand flew across the page in a feverish effort to capture it, to transcend the merely physical paper and pencil, to produce ART.

Later he would add just a touch of color – the blue of the necklace, and of her eyes. The flush on her cheeks – maybe the polish on her nails. That would be more than enough; Samantha needed no embellishment. When he dropped the pencil with an air of finality, she sprang instantly to her feet. "Let me see," she demanded, padding lightly to his side to scrutinize the work.

"I don't know that any drawing can do you justice Mädchen. This is just a shadow; you are magnificent."

"That's nonsense Spencer; you haven't given yourself nearly enough credit. It's _brilliant!" _ And, she thought, he was giving her far too much. In her mind there were two possible explanations for this. One, he was touched. Or two, he really loved her. Somewhere inside, the girl took another step closer to believing.

o O o

As predicted, Carly breezed in promptly at three, followed closely by her faithful entourage (otherwise known as Freddie and Gibby.) "Well Sam, for someone who stayed home 'sick' today, you're awfully peppy," she remarked, watching as the birthday girl demonstrated a dance sequence to Spencer for at least the fifth time.

"Spence, it's really not that hard," Sam insisted. "If you just put your feet down on the UP beats –"

Freddie laughed. "Well no wonder he can't figure it out Sam. Down on up? Up on down? What do you expect?"

Sam shook her head. "I've been trying to teach him the other half of my dance routine, but he just keeps getting all tangled up."

"He can't help it if _you_ tangle him up Sam," Freddie pointed out. For some reason, Spencer seemed to find that terribly amusing, working hard to suppress the grin but failing miserably.

"**I** want to get tangled up!" Gibby interjected, "are we playing Twister?" – this with a most hopeful expression.

"It IS a party, " Carly chirped. "Sounds like fun!"

Gibby whooped and yanked his shirt over his head. "YES! I am the Twister King!" Beating his chest Tarzan-like, he added with a wink, "ladies, have I ever told you how _limber_ I am?"

Carly shook her head emphatically. "No Gibby. And please don't." She took off up the stairs in search of the game, but Gibby was undeterred.

"She wants me," he stage whispered to Freddie from behind his hand.

"Has anyone ever noticed that Gibby inhabits an entirely different universe than the rest of us?" Sam asked.

"Sam, your birthday does not equate to 'be mean to Gibby Day.'"

"FREDWARD, I am not being mean to Gibby. I am merely pointing out a fact. If I _were_ being mean to Gibby, he –" she stopped abruptly, flashing back to an entirely different conversation. 'Do you realize how far outside the realm of possibility this is….' And SHE said…

Feeling much more charitable towards the Shirtless Wonder, she finished "Hey Gib, good luck with that, ok?"

"Uh…thanks Sam. By the way, happy birthday!"

Sam flashed him a smile. "Since it _is_ my birthday, I'd like to take a moment to make an announcement. Hey Carls!" she yelled towards the stairs. "Whatcha doin' up there?" In the kitchen, Spencer froze in the middle of transferring ribs from the crock-pot to a platter. Surely she didn't plan to stage a dog and pony show on her birthday… but what if she did? Maybe that whisper in her ear was getting too loud to ignore.

"Coming!" Carly clattered back down the steps, game in hand. "What's up Sam?"

"Well… something about approaching 18 and the imminent arrival of the real world made me start thinking a little bit more about what I want to do with the rest of my life." She glanced over at Spencer, who hadn't moved a muscle. "I know you three have already sorted through your multiple letters of acceptance and made up your minds where you're going to be in the fall. That's really awesome – I'm excited for you. As for me, I'm going to be here –"

Spencer closed his eyes. She was really going to do it. He set the fork down carefully. He'd promised himself he would back her up when the time came, and it looked like the time was now. Moving towards her, he thought that it really would have been nice if she'd at least tipped him off that this was coming, but –

"I applied to SCCC's Dental Hygiene program, because, well, I learned that a healthy smile can do wonders for self esteem. It seemed like a really…rewarding occupation. Anyway, I wasn't sure that my grades would be good enough, so I spent a lot of time working on the admission essay. The director said that she had never read such a moving personal statement. And before you ask Fredward, every word I wrote in it was true. "

Four sets of eyes focused on her as she concluded – "I got in!"

Carly squealed in delight. "Sam! You didn't TELL me! I'm so excited! Congratulations; I just KNEW you would come around; I was so worried about what you would do and OH, this is wonderful! Guys, isn't it wonderful?"

"Way to go Sam!" The guys agreed all around that it certainly was wonderful. Gibby bravely offered up a high five and was pleasantly surprised when she didn't knock him clean off his feet. Freddie was even more surprised when Sam gave him a hug - it was so un-Sam-like that he could almost imagine she was a REAL girl, like Carly or Melanie.

When she turned to look at Spencer, he could see the laughter in her eyes. 'Gotcha,' she seemed to say. But he was just so proud of her; it didn't matter that she'd almost given him a heart attack. As he'd had to promise so many times before, he just shook his head and smiled. "Later…"

"Who wants ribs?" he called out in his "manic" voice.

"Ribs? Spence, I LOVE you!" Sam sang back. The game forgotten, everyone laughed. ..typical Sam…

In the midst of the hoopla, Sam was the only one who saw the whisper on his lips. "I love you too..."


	15. Chapter 15

o O o

A/N – this is one of those chapters that I had to cut short because it was an emotional one for me to write. Spencer's relationship with his parents has always been in the background on the show, but as the kids grow up, conflicts that have been put on hold will come to the forefront. As much as Sam has father issues, I believe Spencer does too. This will color his view of their eventual disclosure, as well as any serious relationship in which he is involved.

As always, thanks to all readers and reviewers. There is no story without an audience.

o O o

It was beastly hard to leave the Shay apartment that night – not that it was ever easy returning to her mother's house. What she really wanted to do was say goodnight and retire to Spencer's room where she belonged. A voice inside kept urging her to just do it – waltz down the hall and shut the door as pretty as you please. After all, she was 18 now; any naysayers had just been deprived of a key piece of ammunition. But she'd seen the look on his face the moment she'd called for attention – the flash of apprehension before he'd smoothed it over and moved in for back up… or damage control. He wouldn't have left her hanging, but she didn't think he was really ready for full disclosure either. So disappearing into his den was out of the question, and the evening of her eighteenth birthday found her back where she'd started. In her own bed, alone.

o O o

Spencer worked late into the night on what had started as a doodle. Although she hadn't let the cat out of the bag, Sam was flirting with the idea and his feelings about it spilled from his subconscious onto the page. The doodle turned into a cartoon panel in which Sam, dressed as a female version of an old-fashioned newspaper boy, held up the local Daily calling out "Extra! Extra! Read All About It!" The headline screamed "Thirty Year Old Artist Takes Up With High School Student" in big bold letters. He'd placed himself on her left side with arms crossed and jaw set – the "us against the world" mentality evident in his expression.

Their family and friends were scattered around them, placed distance-wise in accordance with their receptiveness to the news. Closest to him was Socko, whose morality was somewhat blurred to begin with and could be counted on to support him without question. The word bubble above his head read "I've got your back." Next out was Pam Puckett who stood with a cigarette in one hand and a glass of champagne in the other. She raised the glass in a toast to him, a knowing smile on her lips. Beyond Pam was Gibby, who looked startled but not unhappy. Social conventions didn't necessarily make sense to him to begin with. Besides, anyone who could control Sam would be welcome to her in his book. And here was Freddie, eyes narrowed but not to the point of anger. Spencer counted on him to be level-headed and reserve judgment, but it was possible that in that moment that the see-saw tipped, he would take his cue from Carly.

Carly was the key - he actually drew it on a chain around her neck. Farther out than Freddie, she wore an "O" of shock on her face. Swaying Carly was critical to swaying Granddad, who had a soft spot for his favorite grandchild. Without Granddad, he had no hope of ever swaying his father. He drew both men on the fringe of the group – Granddad marginally closer but with a frown of displeasure on his face. The Colonel stood in a pose virtually identical to Spencer's on the opposite side of the frame, his angry scowl almost burning a hole through the page. Spencer stared back at the picture defiantly. His resistance to his father had always been of the passive-aggressive variety, but maybe it was time to change that.

Spencer viewed the panel critically. Besides Melanie, whom he didn't feel he knew well enough to read, there was someone else missing from the scene. Out of sight but not out of mind, he was certain she could sense the love in his heart and did not object to what she found there. Hovering just behind them and above their heads, barely perceptible, Spencer drew the lightest outline of angel wings.

"Hi Mom…" he whispered to the empty air. "I could really use your help. I've been taking care of Carly all this time, just the way you would have wanted. I didn't do it for Dad; it was always for you. She's about all grown up now Mom, and there's someone else I need to take care of. You'd love her; I know you would – she's special. I'm kind of out on a limb here, and I really need Carly on my side. So the next time you blow her a kiss goodnight, put a bug in her ear, ok Mom?"

Spencer put the picture carefully away before looking up again. "Goodnight Mom. We really miss you…"

He didn't know how soon the scene would play itself out, or how close he had come to gauging the reactions of the other people they cared most about. Spencer knew only that the confrontation was imminent, and if you're in for a penny, you're in for a pound. He was committed to Sam. He was committed to the relationship. He was not only defending her, but his right to the pursuit of his own happiness, wherever it might be found. The inevitable clash with his father had been brewing for years, and Sam would be the pinch of salt that at long last caused the pot to boil over. It was time to armor up and prepare for battle; the Colonel was a formidable opponent. But as much as Spencer was his mother's son, he was also his father's. This time he would not yield, because Samantha had been damaged enough by flawed parents. There was no way in this universe that he would allow it to happen again.


	16. Chapter 16

o O o

A/N: This chapter is chock full of concepts that I don't own. Too bad for me, I suppose! These include Don Quixote, Nancy Drew, Alice (again!)along with the Cheshire Cat, _Who Framed Roger Rabbit,_ _I Love Lucy, _and _The Twilight Zone._

o O o

Another Monday afternoon – another mad dash for the door. This was starting to become a habit. Carly frowned at the space where just moments ago Sam had been sitting, staring at the clock. "Freddie, have you actually SEEN any evidence that Sam is working on her paper? We're down to four days, and I'm really worried. What if she decides to blow it off? She'll fail English, and she needs the credit. Then she won't be able to graduate, and they won't admit her to dental hygienist school, and she'll have no way to support herself and will be forced to live life as a hobo!"

"Yeah yeah yeah, for want of a nail. Your extrapolation is a little extreme. Didn't she tell you that she would get it done?"

"And you think I should BELIEVE her?"

"Carly, you should know by now that Sam is only going to do what Sam is good and ready to do. Do you think you can follow around behind her all her life to make sure she brushes her teeth, ties her shoes, and writes her term papers? It's not my day to watch her, and it's not yours either."

Carly sighed. "I KNOW that Freddie, but she's our friend, and I just don't want her to screw this up. I would go home and get her myself but I promised GIbby that I would help him with his footnotes today. Would you please just TRY to get Sam to come to the library while there's still time for us to help her if she needs it? Please? For me?"

What was it about that 'please, for me' line that always got him? "Fine, I will TRY to get Sam to come to the library, but only so I don't have to listen to you do that hopeless sighing all afternoon" he replied querulously. "If I end up with two broken arms over this, my mother is sending you the E.R. bill."

"Thank you, oh High Browed Heart Throb – bounty hunter extraordinaire; I'm confident of your ability to retrieve the recalcitrant runaway unscathed. " She smiled winningly as she gathered up her books. "We'll see you at the library."

"Don't count on it," he muttered under his breath.

"What was that?"

"Yes, dear."

"That's what I thought you said."

o O o

Sam slipped through the door to find an empty apartment and a note from Spencer: "Socko called - he's got junk. BRB. XOXO!" Smiling, she snapped it up and stashed it in her notebook, right next to the page that had "Spencer and Sam" written on it ad infinitum – well, at least until she ran out of space to write it.

"What are we working on today, I wonder?" She strolled over to the open sketchbook and made a face. He was back to Artemis, adding woodland creatures to the scene. Not at all what she had in mind. "Nope, not feeling it. I think I feel…mermaidish today." She nodded to herself – definitely mermaidish. She headed for the shower. Surely mermaids have wet hair.

o O o

Freddie popped into the Groovy Smoothie with two thoughts in mind. First, Sam might be there, and second, if she wasn't, he might still be able to bribe her with a smoothie when he tracked her down. "Hey T Bo! Has Sam been in today?"

"No man, I was gonna ask you if she's ok. Haven't seen her in a few."

"Really?" Freddie was startled. It wasn't like Sam to miss her afternoon snack. Then again, without the gang's pockets to dip into, maybe she just didn't have the spending money. He shrugged.

"Maybe she's on a fatshake kick; who knows? Anyway, I'll take an extra large Renegade Razz to go."

"One Renegade Razz for the man. I got artichokes on a stick today. You interested?"

"No thanks T-Bo, no time today. On a mission for Carly - tilting at windmills and all that. Have a good one." He hustled out of the shop heading for Bushwell and the next most likely location of the "fugitive" Puckett.

o O o

Entering the apartment, Freddie saw no sign of Sam. Any reasonable person would just CALL the girl to find out where she was, but that presupposed that the girl herself would respond reasonably. If she found out what he wanted and he wasn't standing right in front of her to corral her, there was no chance he'd be able to fulfill his mission. The water was running; he figured he might as well stick around to ask Spencer if he'd seen her before moving on to the next stop on his list.

Looking for something to occupy himself while he waited, he wandered over to examine Spencer's latest project. Raising an eyebrow, he studied the scene. Here was one of the Greek goddesses – the huntress, if he recalled correctly, but for all her classical attire, she looked remarkably like Sam. Freddie turned the page.

He smiled. Instead of her trademark torch, Sam (aka Lady Liberty) held aloft a giant spoon. The spoon was dripping something that strongly resembled chili. The next page was ALSO Sam, (aka Nancy Drew, girl detective) who held a magnifying glass over a plate of bacon and eggs. Another page – another Sam. Here she was caught in the act of blowing bubbles - lips pursed behind the wand, ready to breathe life into another. "I'm starting to sense a theme here…"

An entire gallery of Sams in varying stages of completion…Sam riding a carousel horse, sticking her tongue out at him. Sam as Alice, staring at the grin left behind by the Cheshire Cat. The next one puzzled him a little bit – Sam looking very studious, glasses perched on the end of her nose as she perused the book in her hand. Freddie thought the only book Sam had ever read was the biography of the world's fattest priest, however, her other self was engrossed in Heinlein's _The Moon Is A Harsh Mistress. _Interesting.

Next was Sam in a classic Marilyn Monroe pose, skirt billowing in an updraft. Nice legs! (He reminded himself NOT to say that to her.) Why had Spencer drawn all these pictures of Sam? So far there hadn't been a single other subject. He turned the page. Sam, Amazonian warrior. Wow. Turning – ok, this one was vaguely unsettling. He thought Sam was intended to be Medusa, but Spencer's rendering was light years away from how he pictured the Gorgon. The snakes were coiled regally on the top of her head; only one escaped, curled into a perfect ringlet along her cheek. There was something almost sensual in her expression, and Freddie suddenly realized that his understanding of mythology was seriously flawed. The Gorgons hadn't turned men to stone with their fearsome visages. They paralyzed the hapless fellows with sex appeal. Or maybe not so hapless – there were surely worse ways to go.

o O o

Stepping from the shower, Sam imagined Spencer poking his head through the door at any moment yelling "Lucy! I'm home!" 'Where did that come from?' she wondered, smiling to herself. She grabbed his robe from the hook and started down the hall to meet him.

o O o

Freddie turned the page and laughed out loud. This was surely his favorite sketch so far. Sam, in exaggerated voluptuous curves, was portrayed as the sultry Jessica Rabbit, complete with caption "I'm not bad. I'm just drawn that way…" Roger stared up at her adoringly with soulful bunny eyes.

In the hall, Sam paused and tilted her head. That was most definitely not Spencer. She was quite certain that it was Freddie. Freddie – who was _supposed_ to be at the library with Carly, but was instead here, doing…what? She moved silently into the room and instantly raised the alert from yellow to red.

Fingers poised to turn, Freddie jumped at the sound of her voice, low and dangerous. "DO NOT. TURN THAT PAGE."

Startled by her sudden appearance, he said the first thing that came to mind. "Sam, these drawings are incredible. These past couple are just … genius, I guess." As she stared steadily back at him, Freddie experienced an almost Twilight Zone kind of feeling…

He turned the page.


	17. Chapter 17

"Holy Mother…" he breathed, taking a step back from the drawing. Of course he recognized the scene. He also recognized the model, and she was NOT Rose DeWitt Bukater. For a moment he was unable to tear his eyes away from the erotic vision on the page – so alive was she that he could almost see her quivering in anticipation of … Whipping his head around to stare at Sam, he finally registered the fact that she was standing there in a bathrobe several sizes too big, tendrils of damp hair curling around her face. With a growing sense of surreality, he whispered "What have you _done_?"

They both pivoted at the sound of the door. Spencer entered through the back, freezing at the counter as he took in the scene. A portentous silence hung in the air as he set his box gently down. His thoughts raced as he weighed his next words. All this time _he_ had been with Sam – it had seemed best to let her lead; he was content to follow. But he had agreed to be the man she needed, and while he couldn't read her mind, he could read her heart. There was no doubt that Sam could stand on her own two feet, but she wanted to know that she didn't _have_ to. She was in love with the man who stepped up. The one who didn't run. The one she could lean on when she was tired of carrying the weight of the world all by herself. The one who, like Prince Charming, would stand up and claim her. And as much as Samantha Puckett didn't believe happily ever after could ever happen for her, that only made her want it that much more. So in the instant it took him to decide what to say, he shook his head and hoped he hadn't misjudged. Today he wasn't with Sam.

Spencer moved decisively to flip the sketchbook shut before turning to engage Freddie. He surprised himself at the ease with which the words rolled off his tongue. Confident. Assured. Possessive. "She's with me."

He pulled her protectively into the circle of his arms, not because she needed protection – he could sense the Amazon queen hovering just below the surface - but because she wanted it. Momentarily shutting Freddie out, he twirled a loose curl around his finger, telegraphing the question without needing to speak. She allowed the slightest upturn of her lips when she answered simply, "mermaid."

"Ah." He nodded. That single word was all he needed to take him back and he smiled in return.

Freddie watched the pair, stupefied. Spencer and SAM? Sam and SPENCER? It was impossible. Well, maybe just improbable. Was it actually possible? Flashing on the image of Sam in her considerable glory, he conceded that it wasn't just possible. It was almost certainly a done deal. The see-saw tipped. Freddie exploded.

"God DAMN it Spencer, where was your head?" he demanded harshly.

Sam bit back the crude Puckett answer that came instantly to mind - it wasn't Shay worthy. Instead she smiled sweetly and answered for him "On a higher plane," just as Freddie held up his hand and said "Don't answer that. I really don't need the visual, but Jesus, Spencer, this is Sam! She's barely 18 years old! She's in HIGH SCHOOL! She's your little sister's best friend! And on top of that, she's damaged goods. How could you do this?"

Spencer ticked off the arguments in his head. Basically the knee jerk reaction that he expected, but the last one surprised him. He silently thanked Freddie for being a "smart guy," because outside of his love for Sam, it was the heart of his defense.

Sam glared at Freddie and tensed in Spencer's arms. Medusa stirred and the snakes prepared to strike. "Don't you DARE say one single word against him Fredward Benson. I won't hear it, so save your breath. I don't need you to defend me – there is no wrongdoing here for you to right –"

Spencer turned her away from Freddie and leaned in to speak softly in her ear. "Mädchen, you can stand down, ok? Freddie isn't the enemy. At least, I'm pretty sure he's not. Why don't you go get dressed and let me handle this round."

Sam started to protest – Pucketts don't back down from a fight. She searched his face and found no trace of apprehension. Neither did she see "Manic;" Spencer had dropped the mask . He was focused. He was ready. The girl inside took a step, and she nodded. "Ok Spence. "

"Hey you," he whispered before sending her on her way. "I love you!"

Sam lit up. Oblivious to Freddie, she reached up for a kiss. Spencer was happy to oblige.

As she moved away, Freddie was startled by the change. The warrior princess disappeared and was replaced by Sam, except…she wasn't just Sam. She was different. Almost…winsome? At any rate, not a Sam that had ever kept company with him.

With eyes narrowed almost exactly as Spencer had imagined him, Freddie asked "How did you do that?"

"Sit," Spencer commanded, gesturing towards the couch. He was not going to stand there as if preparing for a gunfight. This dialogue needed to be conducted in civilized circumstances between reasonable people. Fortunately, Freddie was a civilized and reasonable person.

Joining Freddie on the couch, Spencer jumped in right away. "Freddie, it means a lot to me that you're ready to go to bat for Sam. I –"

"That's exactly my point Spencer," Freddie interrupted. "She doesn't HAVE anyone else to go to bat for her. I would have expected YOU to play that part, and instead you're taking advantage of these…issues that Sam has –"

"Whoa! Slow down there Fred. I need you to put that thought out of your head right now. I need you to understand something about Sam, and about us. You're a computer guy. You're looking at this with your WYSIWYG glasses on and making assumptions about the code behind it. There's far more to it than that. I'm NOT a computer guy; I don't pretend to be. I'm an artist, and I'm telling you that what you see is NOT what you get. I'm telling you that the whole is greater than the sum of its parts. Of course I know that Sam has issues. SAM knows that Sam has issues. But Freddie, she loves ME, and because she does, she's given me the power to put her back together. And I will, because I love her too. I will, even though I know that when she gets to that point, she won't need me anymore. Don't think I did this lightly. I _hope_ that she stays. I accept that she might not. I'm building her up Freddie, and every day she's with me is a day she's safe from someone who would tear her down. If there is a heart to be broken here, it won't be hers," he finished quietly.

Sam reappeared and dropped into Spencer's lap while Freddie digested his words. He'd been expecting a lame excuse – the "look at her, I just couldn't help myself" line, and truthfully, he didn't know how he'd ever be able to look at Sam again himself without flashing on that sketch. Spencer had come back with something entirely different, and he just wasn't sure WHAT he thought about it. He still felt like he had an obligation to stand up for Sam, but did standing up for Sam mean weighing in for or against Spencer?

"Sam… you know, I'm having a little bit of trouble with this. Spencer says he's doing right by you. Carly will never forgive me, and I wouldn't forgive myself if I didn't try to find out if this is what you really want. " Nodding towards Spencer he continued, "He's the senior partner here and that means he has the power-"

"Freddie, you think he started this don't you? Listen to me. He didn't. **I** did. If he has power it's because I gave it to him. I told Spencer and I'm telling you – I chose him. I love him. I don't need rescuing from him. Spencer is rescuing me from myself. "

Freddie's perspective shifted. He recalled his own words to Carly that very afternoon – "Sam is only going to do what Sam is good and ready to do." Sam knew what she was doing – did she understand that she held Spencer's heart in her hand? Spencer understood, and offered it up as a willing sacrifice to the goddess Samantha, whom he was sculpting from the living flesh.

Chizz, he shouldn't have thought of Carly. Almost instantaneously his phone lit up with the impatient text. "Did U find her?"

He glanced up at Sam. "It's Carly. She sent me to find you and escort you to the library in order to avoid dire consequences."

"Dire consequences?"

"Yes, evidently if I fail to produce you at the appointed location, you will be doomed to live life as a hobo. Oh, and by the way, I brought you a smoothie. Umm…it's probably melted by now though."

Sam laughed. "A hobo? Really?"

"Seriously Sam, I have to tell her something. She wants to know if I found you."

"Well did you? Find me, I mean."

"Yessss…"

"And?"

Freddie exhaled loudly. "And…you don't need any help here. "

"So you're cool with this?"

"For now. Carry on." He rose to leave, addressing Spencer. "I've got to get back and save her from Gibby, but let me be clear that I'm not breaking your news for you. You're going to have to tell Carly TODAY, because if she finds out that I knew about this and didn't tell her, I'm going to be persona non grata. And I am NOT cool with that. "

"Understood." He stood and clasped Freddie's hand. "Thanks Fred. "

Sam moved to give him a hug but Freddie shook his head. "Sam, just – no. Not right now, ok? There's a picture of you that I'm going to have a devil of a time getting out of my head as it is."

She smiled. "I DID tell you not to turn that page."

"You did," he admitted. "But for the record (Spencer don't kill me,) Rose has got nothing on you." He disappeared out the door before either half of the outed couple could reply. 


	18. Chapter 18

o O o

A/N: Welcome new subscribers; I hope you'll have a chance to drop me a line and let me know what you think of the story.

o O o

Freddie answered Carly's text as honestly as he could. "Found Sam. No help needed." He realized he hadn't actually asked her anything about the paper and prayed that wouldn't come back to bite him later. Then again, once Carly heard the news, that paper was going to plummet to the bottom of her list. Shifting uneasily in his bus seat, he wondered if there was anything he could say to predispose her to react more favorably to the bomb that was about to be dropped on her unsuspecting head. The answer to that was probably a big, fat NO, since he was on the "didn't see it, didn't hear it" train. He sighed. Might as well get psyched up; it looked like he would once again be called upon to fulfill his role as the Diffuser – not to be confused with Defuser. He couldn't defuse either of the girls, but was adept at absorbing their energy and spreading it out at a much safer voltage. Fredward Benson, human transformer.

o O o

There was no argument over which of them would enlighten Carly. Sam knew if she didn't do it herself, Carly would retreat into the infamous Snit of Betrayal. Spencer knew if he didn't do it, she would cast the Arctic Freeze. Since neither of these was a particularly desirable outcome, unspoken agreement placed them together in front of the TV when Carly returned from footnoting with Gibby.

Without so much as a how do you do, she zeroed in on Sam. "THERE you are! Sam, did you threaten Freddie with bodily harm so that he would tell me you don't need help with your paper?"

"Well…" she began thoughtfully, "it's possible that the 'bodily' part applies here somehow, but aside from that fortuitous vocabular coincidence, I'm pretty sure that I didn't."

"Sam, be serious! Senior projects are due in _four days_ and I have yet to see you –"

"Carls! Chill, ok? I – I mean WE want to talk to you about something else right now."

Spencer jumped in helpfully. "Well actually, that's really all we needed to tell you. That we're a we."

Sam looked at him and gave a small shake of her head. Not Manic. The slight widening of his eyes answered 'this is Carly. Manic always deals with Carly.' She shook her head again and leaned against him. We'll see.

Carly rolled her eyes. "Yes Spencer, I can see that you're a 'we.' That's generally what is meant by an aggregation of two or more people who are connected in some way. "

"That's it exactly," Spencer agreed.

"WHAT'S it exactly?"

"The connected in some way part."

"Spencer, is there an actual point to this conversation?"

Sam huffed. "For crying out loud, Carly, we're trying to tell you that we're TOGETHER."

"Yes, Sam, I can see that you're together. That's generally what is meant by being in the same place at the same time. Now what is it that you need to tell me?"

Was she being purposely dense? "OMG! Carly, TOGETHER! As in 'a couple'. As in 'in love.' As in REMIND ME TO TAKE MY PILLS! Is that clear enough?"

Spencer closed his eyes. Way to break it to her gently…

"I'm sorry Spence," Sam said contritely, "but at this rate we were going to be here all night. If you're going to pull a band aid off, you have to just RIP it. "

Carly blinked. "So was there anything else?"

Spencer opened his eyes to look curiously at his sister. "Carly –"

"As I said, I can see that you're a 'we.' I can see that you're together. I've been expecting this," she said calmly, "well, except for that last part." She looked reproachfully at them. "You could have told me. Why does everyone always assume I'm going to 'freak the freak out'? "

"Wait wait wait! What do you mean you've been expecting this?" Sam demanded.

"Well, you're always here. Ok, you're here most of the time anyway, but Freddie and I haven't even been around and you still make a beeline. You answer his phone; you make choices for him - he lets you. He cooks especially for you – doesn't even wait for me to get home. You ditch school on your birthday and do what? You spend all day here trying to teach Spencer how to dance. I knew T Bo couldn't be serving barbecue on a stick EVERY day, so there had to be something or SOMEONE else you were rushing out of school for. The evidence, while circumstantial, strongly pointed towards that someone being my brother. And you COULD have told me."

"So are you saying that you have no objection?" Spencer asked, clearly surprised.

"If you love her and she loves you, why would I? What I object to is being treated like a child. You've obviously granted Sam adult status. Don't I deserve the same?"

"Carly…are you trying to tell me something here?"

Carly flushed. "NO, not like that, but YES! I'm trying to tell you that I'm not a child. I'm trying to tell you that it hurts my feelings to be excluded from something as wonderful as my only brother and my best friend being _in love."_

"Carly, we ARE telling you. We're telling you now. It's not like we've been out telling everyone else we know except for you," Sam pointed out. "I'm sorry; I wasn't trying to hurt your feelings. It's just…you have him all the time. I wanted a little bit of time to myself. I wish I had the words to explain what it means to me that Spencer loves me." She glanced at him and continued, "I don't think I'm wrong in saying that this relationship is something new for both of us. I've never in my life put my heart out on the line like I did when this started. And I don't think he's ever made the kind of commitment that he's made to me. We don't want to exclude you; we were just finding our way in _including_ each other. Will you forgive me for being selfish and try to be happy for us?"

Carly's expression softened and she sank down beside Sam to give her a hug. "I AM happy for you. Really. I can see a lot of good in this. Just do me a favor – if it belongs behind closed doors, please keep it there. Ok? I'm heading over to the Groovy Smoothie; (that does NOT mean that I want to come home and find panties on the stairs…) Freddie promised me dinner. For some reason he seems to think I'm in need of stress relief. I know Gibby can be challenging, but I don't think I'm a basket case yet. Do I look like a basket case to you?"

"Not at all," Spencer assured her. "But it's good of Freddie to look out for you like that. Don't knock it." Worried about the news but blaming it on Gibby – what a smart guy… One of these days maybe Carly would get around to figuring that out.

"So is it ok to share this info with Freddie, or are you still a secret?"

Sam's eyes sparkled. "You want to tell the nub? I don't know; Spencer, do you think Freddie can be trusted with a revelation of this magnitude?"

Spencer coughed. "I think Freddie has an impressive capacity for revelations. If the topic happens to come up, by all means, feel free."

Carly let out a sigh of relief. "That's good; I really don't like secrets. See you guys later – love you!" Exiting the apartment, she shut the door firmly behind her.

In his mind's eye, Spencer rearranged the scene. Freddie was drawn in to flank Sam on the right, alert and watchful. Carly took up a position on his left (minus the "O") - watching the couple with a benevolent eye. An "I can handle it" word bubble floated above her head. It had seemed too easy – both falling into line independently of the other, responding in ways that he had not expected. He acknowledged that he DID have to accord them adult status; they earned it.

"So…that went better than I imagined. Next time though, can we work on the delivery?"

"You didn't like that?" Sam teased. Sobering at once she said, "I AM sorry. Sometimes the Puckett just comes out, you know? I'm working on it."

"I know Mädchen; I know. You did such a good job with Freddie; I'm really proud. Carly was a little irked at us and pushed your buttons on purpose. I'm just worried about the people we have left to persuade."

"Does it really matter what they think Spence?" she asked softly.

"Does it matter…" he echoed. It mattered only if he _let_ it matter.

Sam watched him carefully. She noted the moment that his eyes hardened -the wound was an old one, and had been left untended. The girl inside recognized it and claimed it as her own. He gathered her in his arms and his voice was gruff when the answer came. "No Sam, it doesn't matter." With his lips on her throat, she melted against him. "It's OK Spence," she whispered, "you don't have to be a superhero all the time…you're not just one anymore."

God, he loved this woman. The last thought he had before she drove all thought away was a sardonic "Sorry Carly…" The panties hit the floor.


	19. Chapter 19

o O o

Sam sat attentively as Ms. Briggs returned term papers. No fidgeting, no finger tapping, no tossing spit balls at Freddie… He raised an eyebrow at her but she just smiled enigmatically.

"Mr. Benson, good work, although a discussion of the theme of good versus evil in Galaxy Wars is rather tired. Now, if you had taken a more _original_ approach, say, an exploration of the relationship between the anti-hero and the queen, I might have been able to give you a few more points. 95."

Freddie smirked. 95 – not bad.

"Mr. Gibson, I must say that this is one of the most UNUSUAL papers I've ever read. I had no idea there were so many references to liquid soap and chocolate pudding in literature. At any rate, your footnotes are excellent so I gave you the benefit of the doubt. 82."

Gibby leaped from his seat. "YES! 82!" He whipped out his phone – "It's cool Dad; I PASSED! So you can tell Grandma not to cancel her flight for graduation…"

Ms. Briggs frowned at him in disapproval. "Mr. Gibson, please take your seat."

"Sorry Dad – gotta go," he whispered into the phone, grinning from ear to ear.

"Miss Shay," Ms. Briggs started approvingly,"This is an _excellent_ example of scholarly research. Class, I recommend that each and every one of you take the time to read Carly's paper on the evolution of Scottish dancing. It is a most informative and RIVETING presentation. 98."

Carly smiled sweetly. "Thank you Ms. Briggs; I thoroughly enjoyed the time spent researching this important topic."

Sam rolled her eyes for the benefit of the rest of the class. Scottish dancing? Chizz – that was good. She sat up straighter when Ms. Briggs reached her desk, tapping Sam's paper in the palm of her hand. Uh oh.

"Miss Puckett…"

"Yes Ms. Briggs," Sam replied in an uncharacteristically meek voice.

"Miss Puckett, this paper is… "

Sam closed her eyes. Here it comes. What would it be? Inappropriate? Unsuitable? Indecorous? Unseemly? In poor taste? How about just over the line? "Ms. Briggs, the thing is, I –"

"EXTRAORDINARY!" Ms. Briggs beamed, fanning herself with the paper in question. "Quite extraordinary. A girl after my own heart – you're going to go far. I knew all those years in my class would pay off for you Samantha. I consider you my crowning achievement in teaching. I could find no fault with it. Just extraordinary," she repeated. "105."

"105!" Freddie squeaked.

"100 for the paper. Five _bonus_ points for turning it in two weeks early," Ms. Briggs replied serenely. She continued down the aisle but Sam didn't hear another word she said. She'd done it – she, Samantha Puckett, had out-brained the brainiacs.

Freddie caught her on the way out the door after class. "Sam, congratulations on the paper. It's unheard of for Briggs to give a grade like that you know. BONUS points – wow."

"Thanks Freddie. I did gamble a little bit but it looks like my numbers came up."

"So what topic did you choose that Briggs found so extraordinary?"

Wordlessly, Sam handed him the paper. His eyebrows shot up – "Sexual Mores in Science Fiction?"

"With particular emphasis on the work of -"

"Robert Heinlein," he finished, suddenly recalling the sketch of Sam engrossed in a novel. "Spencer was right. What you see is definitely not what you get."

She looked sharply at him. "What do you mean by that?"

"There's more to you than meets the eye."

"Coming from someone who's at least figuratively seen more of me than meets the eye, I'm not sure how to take that."

Freddie shook his head. "That didn't come out right did it. Looking at this, I feel like you've been shortchanging yourself all this time. Sam, if you'd been doing this all along, you could quite possibly be standing at the head of the class at graduation. You could be coming with us to college – you could be doing anything you want to do. So my question is – why didn't you?"

"Freddie, of all people I would expect you to understand that there is more than one way to measure success. Could I have been a 'brainiac' like you? Maybe, but I don't think so. It's not in my nature. I AM doing what I want to do; in fact, I've never felt more sure that I'm headed the right way than I am right now. Some people need to take a different path, but that doesn't mean that they don't get where they're going. I would not be happy in college. I don't really _like_ school. I like to _learn_, but if you haven't noticed that I'm a hard knocks sort of girl, you need to get your eyes adjusted. (I think we've already established that you can see just fine.) I was motivated to write this particular paper at this particular time to prove a point – mostly to myself. I proved that I CAN do it, and that's all that was required of this exercise."

"Sam…I really owe you an apology. You shouldn't have had to prove to yourself that you could do this. We should have been telling you all along. I didn't see it; I swear, Spencer must have x-ray vision because –"

Sam held up a hand to interrupt him. "Oh, he most definitely does, but you don't owe me an apology. Truthfully, I probably owe you one."

"Is it that time of the decade already? I didn't think I was due for an apology for another couple of years at least!" he joked with a smile.

"Ha ha –don't press your luck. I was just going to tell you that I was wrong. About the whole bacon thing. That's something that _**I**_ couldn't see until just recently. You're not bacon Freddie, and I hope that Carly sees that too."

This gave him pause – "Really? I got the impression that you were in Gibby's camp on that one."

Sam laughed. "Not really – Gibby loves all females indiscriminately. I honestly don't think that he's more attached to Carly than any other girl; it's just that she's more tolerant of his Gibbyness than most. Since I've been with Spencer, a lot of things look different to me. Spencer knows me; he knows what I need. When I see you two, I think 'this can work,' but you're going to have to get inside her head before you can get inside her heart. You have to figure out what Carly needs; if you can figure that out and you can give it to her, I think you've got a damn good shot."

"Sam, are you actually ENDORSING the idea of Carly and me?"

"I guess I am Frednub; misery might love company, but _love_ loves it more… Now I've spent about as much time on soul-searching rumination as I plan to this afternoon. You're making me miss lunch and they're serving meatballs today." With a quick wave and a flip of shiny curls, she sashayed down the hall and was gone.


	20. Chapter 20

o O o

A/N: While I wish that _Mulan_ were mine, it is yet another creation belonging to others. Readers of my fiction will frequently catch sight of Disney characters. In my opinion, Mulan is by far the best role model of them all.

o O o

Spencer was putting the finishing touches on April's oil on canvas when the phone call came. It wasn't entirely unexpected, but given past history, still qualified as surprising. He listened quietly, a few scattered "mmm hmms" his only contribution to the initial conversation. "Ok Granddad; I'll let her know…Yes, I'm sure she'll be excited. ..Why don't you come on up for dinner this weekend? It might be a good time to start putting things in order. ..Right, we'll see you then…" He disconnected the call with a grimace, running his hand through his hair until it stood straight up in unruly spikes.

Sam looked up from the magazine Carly had foisted upon her; she was supposed to be helping her best friend select the perfect prom updo. (As if _she_ had any talent for that!) Picking up on his vibe, she tossed the periodical away and zipped to his side before Carly could open her mouth to protest. "Something's wrong – what's up?"

Carly looked concerned. "IS something wrong Spencer?"

"Not exactly, no, but I want to run something by Sam."

"Spencer," she complained, "I thought we agreed that you would not _exclude_ me from –"

"Carly, I promise I will solicit your input. This falls into the category of needing to _include_ Sam first, ok?"

She frowned, but nodded. Even though she supported the relationship, it was still hard sometimes to acknowledge that Sam deserved Spencer's first consideration.

Sam threw her an apologetic look and a small I-don't-know shrug before following Spencer to his room. She didn't _know_, but she did have a strong suspicion. She _suspected_ that there was only one person who could provoke that reaction from her normally laid-back lover, and his appearance on the scene would not be welcomed. She further suspected that telling her it didn't matter what people thought was not entirely the truth. It was what Spencer thought she needed to hear. While she loved him for it, she didn't want him shouldering the full burden of their combined parental angst alone. In the back of her head she set the Sams spinning; she needed something from all of them. The patriarch was coming home.

o O o

Spencer collapsed onto the bed, pulling her down beside him.

"Your father's coming home," she guessed.

"Bingo," he replied, staring at the ceiling. "That was Granddad. Evidently the Colonel will be attending graduation. I find this astonishing, considering the multitude of other significant events for which he has failed to appear over the years."

"So…is there a game plan for this?"

"Yes, there is a game plan, but I'm torn over it Sam, and I'm not sure I'm doing the right thing. "

She coaxed him up, tugging his shirt over his head. "Tell me about it," she said calmly.

"Sam, now is really not the best time-"

"Just be still Spence." Capable hands found the knots of tension in his shoulders and went to work on them. "Tell me what you want to do about this."

"Basically, I want you here with me."

"I AM here with you. I'm virtually _always_ here with you."

"Yes…but are you willing to be here 24/7? With me."

The hands stopped. "Are you asking me to move in?"

"I am," he answered without hesitation.

"Spencer, I will move in _yesterday_. That doesn't even require discussion, but isn't that kind of like waving the red cape in front of the bull?"

"It's EXACTLY like waving the red cape in front of the bull," he agreed grimly. "We need to close ranks; I want you established as part of this household. I want him to see and understand that I'm committed here. I'm not just going to hide you away somewhere until he leaves again. However, this puts you in the direct line of fire, and I don't like that at all."

"Spence, maybe you're jumping the gun a little bit. How do you know your father isn't going to come in here and shake your hand to congratulate you for your fine catch?"

This brought a small smile. "You're undoubtedly a fine catch. That said, you don't know my father. There is very little I have ever done that met with his approval. You, Mädchen, will be the proverbial straw that broke the camel's back. To add insult to injury, our relationship isn't the only news that's going to be sprung on him. All this time he's believed I was in law school, and I never disabused him of that notion. There's a very real possibility that he will cut me off. Carly's graduating – I've done his job for him and he doesn't 'need' me to stay here anymore. I think he'll keep the apartment so that Carly has a home base while she's in college, but that doesn't mean I'll be welcome to stay. "

"So does being kicked to the curb constitute winning or losing?

"Both, I think. It's a minor victory in that forcing me out is the fade back and punt strategy that he's left with when he can't compel me to follow the path he set. It's also a loss. I don't want to have to send you back to your mother when the Colonel sends me packing."

"I'm not going back," she replied firmly. "I'm going with you."

"Sam, you know that for being 30 years old, I'm only marginally better off than some guy coming out of college. I won't be able to afford a place like you're used to living, and –"

"Spencer, listen to yourself! Where I'm _used_ to living is not here. Anywhere that you are is already a million times better than where I've been. I'm not that immature girl anymore – the one who doesn't know the meaning of 'work.' I've been planning to get a job anyway – I'm going to need it to help with school. If we have to move, we have to move. But remember, we're a WE. We're in this _together_, and I'm not about to jump ship because Lord High Muckety Muck wants to come in here and tell us how to live our lives."

"He will not make it easy," Spencer warned.

"_The flower that blooms in adversity is the most rare and beautiful of all," _Sam quoted with a smile.

He tilted his head to study her face. "Yes, and as I recall, they don't come around every dynasty…"

"You should remind your father of that Spencer. Or I will. Surely he was in love once."

"He still is Sam, and he's come to perceive it as a weakness. I honestly think he keeps taking these hardship tours to avoid us; we remind him too much of our mother. "

"That's HIS problem Spencer, not yours. HE's the one losing out – it's not your fault…" her voice trailed off and she looked at him wide –eyed. Forget the small step; the girl took a giant leap. "It's not _my_ fault either…"

Enfolding her in a hug, he agreed wholeheartedly. "No Sam, it was _never_ your fault, and I'm going to keep telling you until you believe it to the core –you're _beautiful_ and _brilliant, _and –"

Her eyes gleamed as she finished the thought for him – "a force to be reckoned with."

The Colonel had best choose his battles carefully. The goddess was arisen.


	21. Chapter 21

o O o

A/N: Some of you may read one of the following scenes and think that I'm pretty far out there. You'd be right, but sometimes it just amuses me to do the unexpected. This is one of those times :)

o O o

Carly made a pretense of leafing through the pages of her magazine but her mind was elsewhere. She didn't have to be a genius to infer the nature of Granddad's call - it looked very much like Dad was coming home. The question was, what about that scenario required Sam's immediate input? Maybe Spencer was going to tell her she had to lay low. Sam wouldn't take THAT well, but flaunting her in Dad's face would NOT be a good idea. Just as she decided this was the most likely explanation, the pair emerged from Spencer's room. Sam didn't look unhappy. In fact, quite the opposite. She was electrified. Carly sat up expectantly; she'd obviously come to the wrong conclusion. What had she missed?

"Carly, I have to go…negotiate something with Sam's mom –"

Sam was shaking her head. "Spence, I'm telling you – there's no 'negotiation' needed here. She's not going to bat an eye. "

"I know Sam, but nevertheless, I will make the effort. YOU deserve the respect, whether or not Pam appreciates it. " He grabbed his keys and they headed for the door.

"Wait a minute – I'm lost here. What exactly is going on?"

"Well, Granddad's coming for dinner on Sunday," Spencer started, his hand on the doorknob.

Carly nodded. "I heard. That's nice; he hasn't been up in a while."

"Dad's coming home," he continued as he ushered Sam through the door.

She nodded again. "I gathered that."

"And Sam's moving in," he finished, stepping into the corridor.

"Yesterday!" Sam piped up as the door shut behind them.

Carly stared after them. "Dad's coming _home_ and Sam's moving in?" She shook her head in dismay. Her brother had done his share of off the wall things, but she didn't think he actually had a death wish. "They thought **I** was going to freak out? There's going to be a volcanic eruption right here in Bushwell Plaza. "

Carly got up and started pacing as the wheels turned in her head. She'd once had to fight for the right to stay with Spencer. Now it was starting to look like she might have to fight for Spencer to stay with her…

o O o

Sam slammed the door open and traipsed heavily into the house. "Best to announce our arrival," she explained, "She's likely to have company."

"Hey Mom! I'm home!" she hollered loudly.

"You don't have to yell like that Sam; I can hear just fine," Pam complained. She sat at the kitchen table, engaged in the most unlikely task of peeling and coring apples.

Sam and Spencer paused in the doorway, momentarily distracted by the domestic scene. "Umm...Mom? What are you doing?"

"Should be obvious what I'm doing. Can't make apple crisp without apples, now can you?"

"You're making apple crisp?" The disbelief was evident in Sam's voice.

"Don't be stupid girl; Stanley's making apple crisp. I'm just helping."

"Stanley's _still around?_" Disbelief moved on to incredulity.

Pam set her paring knife down. "Of course he's still around. Why else would I be peelin apples? Don't look so surprised. What? You think I can't keep a man? After your dad left, I just never found one I felt like keeping. I maybe feel like keeping this one."

Sam stared at her mother as if she suspected her of being an alien imposter. "You're serious?"

Pam pursed her lips in irritation. "Did someone knock you in the head? Yes, Sam, I'm serious." Acknowledging Spencer for the first time she said, "Sorry she had to drag you out tonight. Out of bus fare again, I guess. Thanks for running her back."

"Actually Mrs. Puckett, I –"

Pam rolled her eyes. "Don't call me that. _Mrs. Puckett_ was my mother-in-law. The harridan hated me on sight. Can't imagine why."

"No, I'm sure I can't either," Spencer agreed diplomatically. "Anyway, we actually came by for another reason –"

Sam shook her head impatiently. "Mom, I'm moving in with Spencer; I came to get my stuff so I'm just letting you know where we'll be. We're at the loft for now but we're maybe going to get our own place in a couple of weeks- not sure yet. Ok?"

An expression of mild surprise crossed Pam's face. "No kidding. You're the guy? I knew she was tangled up with somebody but I didn't see that coming. Probably should have." She turned to appraise her daughter. "Well kid, you could have done a lot worse." Back to Spencer, "Just make sure she takes her pills. Stanley likes kids ok but I've done my time. I'm no babysitter."

"Mother!" Sam protested.

Spencer was taken a little aback by her forthright manner. "Umm… absolutely Pam, I just want you to know that I love Sam and I'm –"

She waved dismissively. "Never mind. I don't need to hear all that romantic chizz. She's a big girl; she wouldn't be with you if she didn't want to be. I'll give her some credit; she's got more common sense than her sister. If I've told these girls once, I've told them a thousand times. If you're gonna screw around with married men, at least stay away from the ones with kids. They're bad news. That other fool girl of mine is down in L.A. mooning over a 'married with child,' and nothing good will come of it. You, Samantha, you might be taking the long way around but you're going to get there. It warms my heart, as much as anything can I guess." She shook her head – enough of the maternal stuff. "Spencer, you need any help hauling her junk? You want to hang around an hour or so, Stanley will be back from the restaurant and he can help you with it."

Spencer glanced at Sam inquiringly, but she shook her head. "Thanks Mom, but we can get it. Half my stuff is there anyway; it's just some clothes and a couple of pictures. Mostly."

"Ok then, not that you came for it, but what the hell. I'll give it to you anyway. I'm officially handing her off to you with my blessing Spencer; keep her safe. I don't ask for anything more."

With a hand resting lightly on Sam's shoulder he answered quietly, "She's my number one priority."

"You know, I can see that Spencer. Under the circumstances, the girl did good. She did real good. You decide you want to keep her for the long haul, maybe I'll even buy a dress for the occasion."

Sam looked sharply at her mother, but Spencer grinned. "I'll hold you to that Pam."

"C'mere kid, give me a hug before you go," she commanded brusquely.

Sam obediently crossed the room to stand in front of her mother. "I know I don't say it much, but…I do love you. I want you to take real good care of him, because I can see that he's going to take real good care of you. There aren't many like him out there Sam." She rose to embrace her daughter; Spencer saw Sam dash a tear away before letting go.

"I know it Mom; thanks…I…love you too."

Sam made her way back to Spencer and they both turned to leave the room. He wasn't _sure_, but he just might have seen an answering tear in the mother's eye as her daughter walked away to meet the future.

"Ciao baby," Pam whispered after them, returning to her apples with far more focus than they required or deserved. The peels fell in perfect spirals to the floor.


	22. Chapter 22

o O o

A/N: "How could 18 years just up and walk away…" is a line from the Sara Evans song _Suds in the Bucket. _The concept was appealing to me on more than one level in relation to the events that just transpired. I suspect that the subject of that tune came from a much different family environment than our Sam, however, that's part of what creates resonance for her.

The book selection quoted below is excerpted from _Oh! The Places You'll Go!_ by Dr. Seuss. It is reproduced faithfully with the exception of a gender change made by Spencer on the fly.

o O o

In the elevator, Sam perched atop several large garbage bags filled with the possessions she'd deemed worthy of saving. No longer running in "goddess mode," her earlier energy was spent like the sand in an hourglass. Spencer looked on with some concern and sank down beside her.

"You look worn out Mädchen, on top of having something on your mind. Are you having second thoughts about this?"

She reached for his hand and leaned wearily into his chest before shaking her head. "Never – this is where I want to be. It's just sinking in that I really did it – eighteen years just got up and walked away. This is me saying that the little girl is really gone."

"And are you ok with that?" he asked her quietly. "I won't kid you; this is a big deal. We're not just playing house here; this is for real. You said it wasn't a decision that required discussion, but maybe it does. I know that I'm asking a lot of you, moving you in under uncertain circumstances. I don't want you ever to feel like you _have_ to do something to make me happy. I'll love you if you're here; I'll love you if you're there. You ARE my first priority, and if the time isn't right –"

She put her finger to his lips in a silent hush. "No, that's not it. Good things bear repeating; I'm CHOOSING this path. It was Mom, I think. She maybe got me, just a little bit. It means A LOT to me that she said it – that she loves me; what I've always had a hard time with is _feeling_ like she loves me. Spence, I don't know if I can explain it; it's like I was standing there not just closing the door on childhood, but on the dream of the childhood I didn't have but always wanted. I didn't have bedtime stories or birthday parties. No one visited school during education week, or chaperoned my field trips. I didn't believe in the Tooth Fairy or Santa Claus. As far as I could tell – or how it LOOKED to me then, was that I was a commodity during the pageant days and an inconvenience the rest of the time. We went in there tonight and –" she stopped to swipe at her eyes. "Damn dust," she muttered. "You really should clean in here…"

"We went in there tonight and?" he prompted gently.

"We went in there tonight and in her crazy Pam way, she actually said she approves of me – that she's PROUD of me even, and I wasn't expecting that. I feel…I don't really know how I feel. I just feel. "

Reaching across her to punch the "up" button, he nodded to himself; it was the emotional processing that always threw her for a loop. As Pam said, he probably should have seen that coming. At this point, diversionary tactics were in order. Sam preferred to process emotions physically; to an extent he would allow it, but deciding whether she was ready to let go was not a decision he could make for her. And so he would do what he did best – he would give her what she needed the most.

Carly was poised to pounce as soon as the elevator door opened. Spencer had promised to allow her input, and she wouldn't rest until she gave it. She paused in surprise when Spencer scooped Sam up and strode past her to the stairs.

"Spencer," she and Sam started in stereo, but he shook his head.

"In a minute Carly."

"Is Sam ok?" she called after them.

"She's fine. She's worn out…" he nudged the door of Carly's room open and deposited Sam on the bed. She kicked off her shoes and sank onto a pillow without protest. Turning to rummage through the closet, he selected a book at random from a group shoved back in the corner of the highest shelf. He glanced at the title and smiled. Oh the serendipity…

Offering no explanation, he settled beside her and started to read. _"Congratulations! Today is your day. You're off to Great Places! You're off and away! You have brains in your head. You have feet in your shoes. You can steer yourself any direction you choose. You're on your own. And you know what you know. And YOU are the gal who'll decide where to go. You'll look up and down streets. Look'em over with care. About some you will say, 'I don't choose to go there.' With your head full of brains and your shoes full of feet, you're too smart to go down a not-so-good street. And you may not find any you'll want to go down. In that case, of course, you'll head straight out of town. It's opener there in the wide open air. Out there things can happen and frequently do to people as brainy and footsy as you. And when things start to happen, don't worry. Don't stew. Just go right along. You'll start happening too… "_

Sam lay with her head pillowed on her arm and let his voice lull her. She was almost home.

Reaching the end, Spencer closed the book and laid a gentle kiss on her forehead. "Tell her goodnight from me Mädchen. I love you…" he turned out the light and left the room, shutting the door quietly behind him.

o O o

"Spencer, I thought Sam was moving in with YOU. You didn't say she was moving in with ME!" Carly complained as soon as he reappeared to drag the bags from the elevator.

"Relax Carly; Sam's not moving in with you," he answered with a hint of amusement.

"Then why is she in _my_ bed? I really don't like to find half eaten tamales in it."

"I promise there are no tamales, and you'll get your bed back. I just borrowed it for a while – there was someone she needed to say goodbye to."

"I'm not sure that makes any kind of sense, but you seem to know what you're doing. MOST of the time. It's the rest of the time that I want to talk to you about. Spencer, you know Sam is my best friend in the world and I am absolutely thrilled that you two are happy together. But do you really think that moving her in here NOW - right when Dad's getting ready to come home – is a good idea? This is bound to turn ugly, and I don't understand why you would do that to her."

She watched him discard several potential answers, and this worried her. He wasn't SURE, and Carly really needed him to be sure.

"The showdown is inevitable this time," he started finally, "whether or not Sam is involved. I don't like putting her in the middle of it, but this is a fight that she knows and understands. I didn't draft her; she enlisted, and what it boils down to is that I need her Carly. She brings me a purpose – a focus that I didn't have before. She makes it possible for me to look ahead, to think about leaving this holding pattern and chart some kind of course. And man is that going to rub Dad the wrong way – Sam's made more progress on that front in a month than he has in thirty years. So he's going to come home and I'm going to stand up and say this is who I am. How can I do that without Sam?"

How indeed? "There's no other way?"

"I would say that's entirely up to him."

Carly sighed. "He's the only dad we have you know."

Spencer inclined his head slightly in acknowledgment. "Oh yes. How could I forget?"

o O o

It was sometime past midnight when she materialized beside him in the dark. "We're clearly going to have to renegotiate the space here, " she teased, "you're taking up far more than your share."

"I was saving it for you," he replied with a smile in his voice.

"That implies you knew I was coming."

"That's because I did. This surprises you?"

She laughed softly as he wrapped his arms around her. "No Spence; not at all."

"I didn't think it would."

Why? Because it was her day – she was "off to Great Places,"" off and away," and when this "mind-maker upper" could CHOOSE where to roam, this "mind-maker upper" would _always_ come home.


	23. Chapter 23

o O o

As was his custom, Freddie let himself in to the Shay apartment Thursday morning to escort Carly to school. Well, HE thought of it as escorting; Carly probably thought of it as two friends traveling in the same direction. He joined her at the counter as she finished her obligatory coffee.

"Good morning Sunshine, are you ready to roll?"

"Sunshine?" she questioned with a smile. Freddie was so comfortable and familiar; sometimes she forgot that he was patiently waiting to be something else. That something else was on the back burner, but every once in a while he turned it up just a little bit to remind her that it was still there.

"Did I say that out loud?" he replied easily, pouring himself a cup. He took a sip and made a face. "I know Spencer insists on decaf, but couldn't he at least pick a palatable flavor? What is this anyway?"

"Brazilian Maple Bacon. Spencer bought it for Sam. "

"Well let Sam drink it then," he groused, pouring it out in the sink. "I fail to see why it should be foisted on you; it's horrid. And she's not even h-" he paused mid-word as Sam strolled up behind him.

"Dissing my joe Benson?" she asked archly.

"Good morning to you too, Princess," he replied sarcastically. "I guess it's the thought that counts, but frankly I'd rather drink my mother's medicinal tea than this stuff."

Her Puckett scowl dissolved into a grin. "I know, right? I didn't have the heart to tell him that it's awful." She continued in a conspiratorial whisper, "If we leave now, we still have time to stop at Skybucks…"

"Carly, let's move," Freddie ordered, "there's a Cinnamon Dolce Latte calling my name."

"So bossy HB," she tossed back, but didn't object when his hand found the small of her back to urge her towards the door.

"HB?" Sam inquired, curious.

Carly started to reply but Freddie shook his head. He'd never hear the end of it if Sam found out about the High Browed Heart Throb. "Just a joke," he replied smoothly, "Let's go ladies; time's wasting."

"You two go ahead; I'll catch up in a minute." Sam dashed back down the hall. Freddie shrugged and ushered Carly out.

"She got up awfully early to be here in time for coffee this morning," he commented idly as they moved towards the elevator.

"That's because she never left. Spencer moved her in last night."

Freddie stopped with his hand hovering over the call button. "You're serious? I guess I should say _he's_ serious? " He had to tread carefully; as far as Carly knew, his knowledge of the relationship was limited to what she'd told him – namely, that Spencer and Sam were 'an item.' "Did he just want to get her away from Pam, or…"

"Oh no," she shook her head. "Nothing to do with her parent – probably a lot to do with ours. He's beyond serious Freddie; Spencer's dated plenty of women over the years but I've never seen him like this. Sam is the focal point that he's rallying around – it's like he sees something in her that's waking him up. He's been idling all this time – in some kind of _waiting_ place, because he had to take care of me. I can feel the gears shifting; I'm just afraid of what happens when he finally decides to go full throttle."

"You don't approve of the two of them then?"

"_I'm_ fine with them Freddie; I just didn't get a chance to tell you the rest of what happened last night. Granddad called – Dad's coming home." The worried look on her face belied what should have been happy news.

"From your tone, I'm guessing that Dad will NOT be fine with them?"

"Dad will not be fine with a lot of things. He and Spencer have a somewhat antagonistic relationship to begin with. I want to support them – Spencer's always been there for me, but I hate that there have to be sides at all." There was a catch in her voice when she finished, "Our family isn't that big Freddie…"

"Don't cloud up and rain Sunshine," he soothed, putting his arms around her. He was surprised when she didn't pull away. "It will all work out. " From the corner of his eye he saw Sam approaching. "From what I can see, Spencer really loves Sam. If she's even half as good for him as he is for her, that's bound to come through to your father."

"It would be different if Mom were here. I MISS her Freddie, and I miss Dad too, and I'm afraid he's going to make Spencer leave and then I'll have to miss Spencer AND Sam, because she'll follow him; I know she will."

Sam hesitated in the hall – Carly rested her head on Freddie's shoulder as he glanced her way. She met his gaze with an inquiring look of her own. Should I keep on coming? He nodded her over, speaking softly to Carly.

"Carly, the good thing about this is that we all get to play grown up now. If Spencer and Sam leave, they're only leaving Bushwell. They're not going to disappear from our lives - no one will be able to make them. Believe me, I understand how you feel about your family – mine isn't so big either. Spencer and Sam are important to me too. One thing will still be true, no matter what happens. All of those people – your father, Spencer, Sam…and me, we'll all still love you."

"What's up amigos?" Sam questioned cautiously.

"Carly's worried about what will go down when her father comes home. "

Sam straightened, unconsciously clenching her fists. "I would say that's entirely up to him."

A small sob escaped Carly. "That's _exactly_ what Spencer said…"

"You got room for me Freddie?"

He opened an arm without comment, allowing Sam to join them. With their heads put together in their own little prayer circle, Freddie was surprised once again when Sam gave voice to the very thoughts that were in his head. "Carls, he's worried too, ok? We – you, Spencer, Freddie, me – we're all in the same boat. For different reasons none of us have a father who's ever been around. Spencer needs something from your dad. You need something from your dad. On the one hand, they're the same things. On the other hand, they're not. I understand that. I don't know if either of you will get those things, but I can see what kind of place you're in right now. Even though we hope you're on our side, Carly, I promise that we're never going to ask you to choose between us and your father. Our fight isn't your fight. We're going to be who we are, but who we are loves you either way."

"Let's just wait and see what happens Carly," Freddie suggested. "Sometimes people can surprise you." Locking eyes with Sam, he caught the small smile that flitted across her face. Sometimes people did.


	24. Chapter 24

o O o

A/N: Friends, I promise Granddad is coming in the next chapter. .. and I do believe we'll catch sight of April one more time before the end.

Once again, I've borrowed from _Alice in Wonderland_, who also found something to be "curiouser and curiouser."

o O o

Brad stepped wearily through the front door, finally home after his second East Coast trip in ten days. At least it hadn't been Atlanta this time – man he hated that airport. He was looking forward to a few days of down time, maybe catching a ball game, or at the very least, hanging out at the corner bar and raising a toast to Jimmy Buffett and the idea of some island paradise far from clients and deadlines.

It was almost dinnertime, which meant that he ought to find his little tyke at the table gearing up to throw green beans on the floor. He smiled at the thought, moving purposefully towards the kitchen. No little tyke. No April. Only the cat, demanding loudly to be fed. He sighed - that stupid so-called _job_ again. "I swear April, you KNEW I was coming home," he muttered to himself. "You could have arranged to be off tonight. Barring that, you could at least have let me know to pick Ryan up on my way so I didn't have to go back _out_ as soon as I walked _in_… " He pressed the phone to his ear.

"Hi Mom, I'm home…yes, the flight was fine, thanks… No, Charlotte was last week; it was Boston this time … no, no, didn't make it to Cheers, maybe next trip…uh huh…Anyway, April didn't tell me she was working tonight. I'll be over in a few minutes to get Ryan… He's not?" Brad paused. Ryan was not at his mother's, therefore April wasn't at work. Could they have just run out to pick up something for dinner? "No, everything's fine; I just haven't caught up with April yet… Yes, I remember, we're definitely picking you up Sunday for the Mother's Day brunch…Ok Mom, I love you too. .." He disconnected the call with a frown, heading upstairs for a shower and change of clothes.

Crossing the threshold of their bedroom, he glanced automatically towards the wedding picture on the wall. Sometimes he felt like that was the last time April was truly happy. Capturing her in that moment, the photographer seemed to have trapped her joy in the picture and Brad had been trying to free it ever since. He liked to look at the photo to remind himself that the smiling girl he married actually existed somewhere - except today, the picture was gone.

He moved closer to study the portrait that had appeared in its place – a remarkably lifelike rendering. April held Ryan up in the air as though he were flying, the artist somehow conveying a sense of motion. Brad imagined they had been twirling 'round and 'round - the delighted smile on Ryan's face was mirrored on his mother's. The ring on her finger sparkled in the light of the unseen sun…he leaned in to look more closely. Intrigued, he discovered that a small chip of crystal was actually embedded in the paint.

Settling down thoughtfully on the bed, he noticed the photo album left lying on his pillow. _Curiouser and curiouser_…Brad flipped through the pictures one after the other, all images of Ryan caught in typical child's play. Digging in the dirt, the thrill of the slide, hunkering down to eye a ladybug on a stick of grass, the intent look on his face as he lined himself up to kick a ball, followed by quite a few more chronicling a day in the life of a busy toddler. HIS busy toddler, and he himself had been too busy to be there. Reaching the end he paused over the last photo. April smiled wistfully back at him, her arm raised in a half wave. He noted with a pang that her finger was bare. For the first time it occurred to him to wonder who took the pictures – pictures of his son, of his wife, of his family.

There was a note slipped in behind April's photo; he eyed it warily. Perhaps he should treat it like his fortune cookies. If he opened one and didn't like the fortune inside, he simply refused to eat the offending cookie. In this way he contrived to dodge the negative energy associated with it. But this time there was no cookie to take the blame. If he didn't like the message waiting there, he couldn't unread it. He unfolded it gingerly, as though he expected the words to jump out and bite him.

"_You didn't hear me, but maybe you'll see me. I hope you like the pictures, but pictures aren't the same as living color. Brad, I can't live with a picture; I don't like to be alone. I understand that you think you're doing what's best for us, but I don't agree. The 'reward' isn't worth the sacrifices you're making. I'm not willing for our marriage and family to always come in second. Ryan and I are going to my sister's; you can come get us when you're ready to put us first. We'd like to come home. We'd like YOU to come home. We love you. – A"_

All the back and forth, the bickering, the arguments came back to him. How many times had she told him that she didn't like to be alone? He'd dismissed it – the "unreasonable" demands of an ungrateful wife who did not appreciate what he was doing for her. Truly he hadn't heard what she was saying. The knowledge that he could actually LOSE her because of that failure was sobering.

He didn't shower. He didn't change. He didn't even feed the cat. Brad picked up his keys and headed for the door. It was a two and a half hour drive to Beth's; if he left right away he could get there before April put Ryan to bed. Maybe it was unreasonable to expect a man to fly across the country and then drive for hours to retrieve his family who should have been home in the first place. That didn't occur to him. What DID occur to him is that there _is_ such a thing as too late –and by God, today was not that day.


	25. Chapter 25

o O o

A/N: I thank you all for your patience while this chapter percolated; as Dr. Seuss says "_un-slumping yourself is not easily done."_ _Oh! The Places You'll Go! _has once again found its way into the story.

No offense is intended to any "Flos" out there reading this story

o O o

Spencer listened carefully to the message left on his phone by the disembodied voice from the admissions office. "Mr. Shay, this is Elaine Robinson from Admissions returning your call. I understand from your message that you're interested in attending the summer session. Our regular deadline has passed," his mouth tightened into a displeased frown as the voice continued "HOWEVER, I spoke to the Dean, and under the circumstances he is willing to accept a late application provided that you can have all your documents and full payment of the tuition to me by the fifteenth of this month. Please give me a call back to let me know whether to expect your application. Once again, I'll need to have a complete package by 4PM on Tuesday…"

Tuesday? Add one more thing to his list of stressors. The application was no problem, but the money was something else again. Maybe if he hadn't emptied his savings account to buy the earrings for Sam last month… but no- he wasn't going to go there. The money would just have to come from somewhere else. It might be time to finally let his beloved Bottle Bot go, not such a bad idea considering that Granddad thought it was in the Seattle Art Museum when in fact it had been returned to its customary spot in the back of the apartment. Sacrifices might have to be made, but first he had to confirm that the well was truly dry. ..

o O o

Having fortified him as best she knew how, Sam claimed a last kiss before slipping from the bed. "I won't be gone long; I just feel like I should go spend a couple of minutes with Mom. I guess that's crazy – I probably never would have done it before. But things are different now somehow," she explained as she stepped into the shower.

Things were definitely different - he was still adjusting to the new reality himself. He went to bed and Sam was there. He woke up and Sam was there. In a matter of hours her belongings had been strewn across the room as though they had always been there, only this time she _had_ been invited and _was_ entitled. He tripped over sandals, shoes and boots. His share of closet space shrank from 100% to something less than 30. He lost his favorite T shirt, claimed by Sam as sleepwear because, she said, it smelled like the pulled pork he'd made her for dinner. The bathroom counter was littered with cosmetics, cleansers, and bottles of esoteric lotions whose use and purpose escaped him. The Irish Spring ® soap had been replaced by Dove ® go fresh burst (with nectarine, she'd informed him,) and more often than not, intimate apparel hung from the towel bar while the towels lay on the floor in a heap. No longer king of his hill, Sam's presence announced itself everywhere he looked; he'd joked that he should make her a new penny T. It would say simply _Veni, Vidi, Vici. _ Yes, his space and his life had been transformed… and Spencer loved it. You just don't realize how empty your life is until it's full.

Wandering in to brush his teeth, he answered her fondly. "Of course you want to see your mother; that's kind of the point of Mother's Day isn't it?"

"She's probably at the restaurant; " Sam called over the running water. "I'll say hi – maybe have coffee or something. I can bring dessert back if you want. What time are you expecting Granddad?"

"Round about one o'clock or so. I'm planning on early dinner, probably two."

"I'll definitely be back before then; I know today is dress rehearsal," she assured him as she lathered shampoo in her hair. "How do you want to play this?"

"We're just going to play it by ear. There are some other things that I need to discuss with Granddad, getting Carly's school situation sorted, and the finances and so forth. I'm sure that an opportunity will present itself."

"Doesn't your father handle all that?"

Distracted by the water cascading down around her he was reminded again of the mermaid portrait he'd never started. He held it in his mind, ready to be brought to life and promised himself he would paint it. Soon.

"Actually, no. Since Dad's on active duty out of the country, Granddad has power of attorney. The Colonel trusted me with Carly's care, but I evidently was not considered _responsible_ enough to be left in charge of the money. Granddad wires the household allowance in every month and I divvy it up as needed, but anything out of the ordinary has to go through him."

"So..." she started as she twisted the water off, "aside from the fact that you didn't tell him, your father never found out you left law school because Granddad was handling all the bills. "

"Right."

"Well, that makes him a party to the 'lie of omission; ' that's tantamount to siding with you on the issue. Do you think that will make him more likely to support…your other choices?" she asked tentatively.

He shook his head. "I really don't know Mädchen; honestly I'm hoping that Carly can help soften him up, because-"

"No," Sam said firmly, frowning as she stepped from the shower.

"No what?"

"NO. Don't ask Carly to get involved in this."

"Sam," he said reasonably, "Carly is Granddad's favorite. If she helps me bring him around, then I at least have a _chance_ with Dad."

"OK, I can see why you feel that convincing Granddad is important. But leave Carly out of it. I _promised_ her Spencer. Well, actually, I promised her that we wouldn't make her take sides against your father, but it amounts to the same thing. She's really torn over this. We have to do this on our own."

"She is not the only one torn Sam." He saw the beginning of the flash that was Hera in her eyes and realized they had reached a milestone. For the first time since leaving one and one behind, Sam was pushing back. In his mind this was significant - it meant she was confident enough in the relationship to cross him without fear, but more importantly, it showed that she was not dependent. She claimed an equal status, and this was as it should be.

"I know," she said quietly. "But we can do it. You told me yourself – '_will you succeed?_ _Yes! You will, indeed! (98 and ¾ percent guaranteed.)'_ And we will, because we're RIGHT. Doesn't everybody want to be on the side of right?_"_

"You are something else Mädchen. I think the issue is that not everyone has the same definition of right. But ok, I concede. No Carly." Never argue with a naked woman; the odds of winning are poor at best.

"I knew you would do the right thing," she replied serenely as she plucked the toothpaste from his hand. "Now I'm just going to pop over and see Mom, and I'll be right back."

What he said was "Take your time," in a most agreeable tone, but what he thought was 'hurry home -the mountain is waiting. Let us hope this one turns out to be only a molehill...'

o O o

The hostess greeted Sam warmly. "Good morning, are you waiting for others to join you or may I seat you now?" she inquired with a smile.

Sam fidgeted, suddenly unsure that searching out her mother in this unfamiliar territory was really a good idea. "Umm…actually ma'am, since, you know, it's Mother's Day, I thought I would come by and see my mother."

"So you'll want a table for two?"

Flushing, Sam refrained from smacking herself in the head as she realized that, of course, this woman didn't automatically know who her mother was. "No, I mean, I'm not sure. I think my mom is probably in the kitchen. With Stanley. He is here today?" Sam asked anxiously.

"Yes dear, Mr. Armistead (the younger) is in. And your mother is…"

"Pam. Pam Puckett?"

"Oh goodness, you're one of the twins. I should have seen it right away. Would you be Melanie or Samantha?"

"Samantha – Sam," she corrected.

"Well Sam, I'm delighted to meet you. I have to tell you that Mr. Armistead is forever praising the three beautiful women in his life. Your mother is the apple of his eye and he is just so proud to be gaining two such accomplished daughters; bless his heart, he …" her voice trailed off as she registered Sam's look of wide-eyed surprise.

"Well of course you're waiting to see your mother aren't you dear? Just listen to me prattling away. Jackie? Jackie!" she called out to a passing waitress. "This is SAM; one of Pamela's girls. Would you please take her back to the kitchen? "

Sam eyed the hostess' name tag. 'Your name is Flo?' she thought to herself. 'Of _course _it is; what else could it possibly be?'

"Thank you Flo," she murmured politely, "Umm, happy Mother's Day."

Flo beamed back at her. "Why thank you dear; I'm going to the tea at church this afternoon with my grandchildren, and – oh my! There I go again. You go on back with Jackie. So nice to meet you Sam!"

With some relief, Sam followed the much more taciturn Jackie to the kitchen. Stopping at the door, Jackie eyed her critically. "Just wait here; I'll get your mother," she said shortly.

"But Flo said-"

Jackie shook her head, tugging at Sam's hair. "Uh uh – Mr. Armistead the younger might not say anything, but Mr. Armistead the _older_ would have your head, and mine too for letting you in the kitchen like that. Just wait. I'll be right back."

Moments later Pam emerged from the kitchen, dishtowel in hand.

"Well don't just stand there girl; find a seat." Pam shooed her back towards the tables. "Is something wrong?" Pam looked at her suspiciously. "You didn't forget to take your pills did you?"

"Mom, no! Would you quit it with the pill thing already? " She plopped down at an empty table as Pam eased in across from her. "It's Mother's Day. I just… Mom, I just wanted to stop by and tell you happy Mother's Day. "

"You did?" Pam looked truly startled, but a pleased smile crept over her face. "Thanks kid. That's…thoughtful of you. I wasn't expecting you today. "

"Why not?"

"Well, we don't exactly have a history of this-" she waved back and forth between them. "And you've moved on; you're grown; you've got a man and a life of your own to live. That's working out? Things are good?" she asked cautiously.

Sam nodded. "We're good. We're great. We do have…some choices to make once school lets out, but we're solid. Don't worry; I won't dump myself back on your doorstep."

"I wasn't going there Sam. "

"I know. I told him things are different now. I'm trying to feel like a grown up. Sometimes it works; other times it doesn't, but he always knows the right thing to say to help me figure out what I should be doing. Once in a while, I think **I** know the right thing to say to help him figure out what HE should be doing, and that's when I really feel successful."

In a most unexpected gesture, Pam reached across the table to take her daughter's hand. "You ARE successful Samantha; against the odds, you are. You picked the right path; you have good friends and a better partner. You know where you want to go and you'll figure out how to get there. Your father didn't believe – maybe I didn't either. But you proved us both wrong, and girl, I'm GLAD. I can sleep at night, because I know that you are safe, and you are happy. "

Sam stared at her mother. "What do you mean about Dad? That he didn't believe? What didn't he believe?"

Pam settled back in her chair. "Let's not go there Sam. It doesn't matter what chizz he thought anymore."

Sam sat up straighter. "But Mom, it sounds like you're saying that it was on Dad that he left, and I always thought…"

Pam's smile was sad. "You always thought it was me. I know. In a way it was, I guess, but only because he didn't have – oh, I don't know the right word. Your father judged me by my environment, by my family and the way they lived. I thought he was the best thing that ever happened to me, but I was wrong. He was slumming Sam. He got caught when he knocked me up, and had enough of a conscience to make it legal, but he never believed that I could rise above my circumstances. I didn't belong in his world and he didn't try to change me or himself so that I could. The boyfriends ? They came later. I only wanted your father to –"

"Pay attention," Sam whispered.

"Yes," Pam agreed, startled. "I loved him, but he never really loved me. He didn't believe in me, and he didn't believe in you girls. As far as he was concerned, your story was already written. "

Sam took a breath, trying not to cry."Mom…why did you never tell us this? Why did you let us think all this time that you drove him away?"

Pam shrugged. "Maybe that shrink Carly dragged us to could answer that. He was the only father you had. At the time I still hoped that I could win him back somehow, but I never really had him in the first place. Anyway, my point here kid, is that he was WRONG. He was wrong about you, and maybe I'm starting to believe he was wrong about me."

Sam recalled Flo's eye-opening comment and studied her mother curiously. "You know Mom, that hostess said something interesting when I came in. She said Stanley is so proud to be gaining two successful daughters. "

"He is proud Sam. Proud as a peacock."

"Mom! You know that's not what I mean. Is it true? Are you getting married?"

"Now don't get all huffy girl, I was going to tell you."

Sam briefly considered pouting (just for the sake of appearances) but couldn't keep the smile from her eyes. Impulsively she jumped up to give her mother a hug, almost knocking over Jackie who had just appeared at the table with coffee and sweet rolls.

"Calm down kid. You'd think I won the lottery or something, the way you're carrying on."

"Oh no Mom, this is so much better."

Pam could not disagree.

o O o

Carly popped into the kitchen, sniffing appreciatively. "Something smells delicious!"

"Everything I make is delicious," Spencer agreed absently, "except when it erupts in flames."

"It's delicious even after it erupts in flames, "Sam added loyally. "But that's not going to happen today I'm sure."

"I'm not, " he muttered, glancing at the clock. "Help me keep an eye on this stuff, ok? "

Sam obediently took up a position at the stove and started stirring while Spencer moved to wrestle the Bottle Bot down the hall.

"Where are you going with the Bot?" Carly asked curiously.

"Out of sight, out of mind," he replied cryptically.

Carly shrugged and turned to Sam. "So how did things go with –" She was interrupted by a knock at the door. "Oh good, Granddad's here!' she said brightly. "Spencer! Granddad's here!" she called after him.

Flinging the door open, Carly's muffled shriek captured Sam's immediate attention. Granddad had indeed arrived. And he'd brought company.


	26. Chapter 26

o O o

A/N : You'll NEVER GUESS what book is quoted in this chapter…OK, you will. If it were put to music, it would be the theme song for this fic. _Oh! The Places You'll Go! _is back again. The "big stick" line is a reference to the quote attributed to Teddy Roosevelt. I am by no means an expert at Japanese, so if I got that wrong the fault is entirely mine. Apologies for the delay in posting this chapter; alas, while every effort will be made, I cannot promise that the next one will appear any sooner.

o O o

With an increasing sense of foreboding, Sam scrutinized the man to whom Carly now clung. While technically in civilian dress, the shoes were perfectly shined. The khakis were perfectly pressed. No wrinkle dared offend the Egyptian cotton of the button-down shirt. His hair, lacking even a single strand of silver, was precisely cut high and tight and his face looked so smooth that Sam expected to see the razor still in his hand. The family resemblance was striking, and there was little doubt in her mind as to the identity of their unexpected guest. Spencer had a couple of inches on him in height, but the authority the Colonel carried with him took up enough space for both of them. Without waiting for an introduction, Sam carefully turned the burner down and slipped away.

Closing the bedroom door quietly behind her, she found Spencer shifting furniture in order to maneuver the Bottle Bot into a far corner. "Spence," she called softly.

"I heard," he tossed over his shoulder. "Granddad's here. I'll be out in a minute."

"Yes, Granddad's here. But we have a small problem."

Spencer turned around. "What caught on fire?" he asked with resignation.

"Nothing, at least nothing yet. But we're about to be ambushed. Granddad didn't come alone."

"Who…" he started warily, but had no need to finish. He read the answer on her face.

She watched his jaw tighten as he nodded understanding. He could not repress the hiss of frustration that escaped through clenched teeth. "The best laid plans…he wasn't due home for three weeks."

Spencer didn't think of himself as a violent person, but in that moment he had an almost uncontrollable urge to throw something, or punch his fist through the wall. He wasn't READY. It was unfair – the balls were all up in the air and he was still choreographing the precise set of steps needed to catch the lot of them. He was pretty sure he could do it, but he needed more _time_. While he wasn't looking, time had run out.

"I guess someone forgot to tell _him_ that," Sam commented. "So what's plan B?"

"There **IS** no plan B Sam! I'm still constructing plan A!" The edge in his voice wasn't directed at her and he felt instantly guilty for raising it. "I'm sorry Mädchen. This is just…messed up. Royally."

There went the hand through the hair as his stress leaked out – so, like the little Dutch boy who held back the sea, Sam thought she must find a way to plug it. What were the options? For sure she couldn't let him leave the room in his current state of mind. Hackles would instantly be raised on both sides and it would just make it that much harder for them to win "the enemy" over.

THINK Puckett. This isn't like school where you just have to one up the other guy. If Spencer got into an ante-upping contest with his father, there would be no winning – even if he won. This was going to be a different kind of fight, but she had learned things were not always as they seemed. Somehow she needed to reinstate at least the illusion of control or Spencer would be tempted to knock the chip off his father's shoulder right off the bat. Freddie was right; they needed to wait and see.

"Yes," she agreed, "it is. But I can't change the fact that he's here now. He made the first move and showed up unannounced - we don't know what his intentions are. Don't let him rattle you; right now we just have to get through today. This is still _your_ household, and we'll go on with the activities that you planned. If our guests choose to do something else, let them. Now is not the time to melt down OR explode," she added firmly. "Now is the time to be sure when we step, _Step with care and great tact and remember that Life's a Great Balancing Act. Just never forget to be dexterous and deft. And never mix up your right foot with your left. _That will make ME feel better. Now, what will make you feel better?"

"Oh, I don't know. A time machine? A winning lottery ticket? How about the script? The right script would be great."

"Spencer, you told me today is a play it by ear day anyway. Let's just do what we were going to do."

"Yeah, but that was when I thought I only had to deal with Granddad. " It didn't matter that he'd been anticipating this for some time; there was just something about the Colonel that made him feel like a six year old sent to time out.

"Spence, he only just GOT here. He hasn't seen any of you for how long? Do you really think he's going to jump down your throat right now – today?"

"Maybe not," he admitted, "but I wouldn't put it past him." He fished his phone from his pocket and barked "Call Socko."

"Cool! I didn't know you could do that."

"Freddie." Spencer explained while he waited for Socko to answer.

"Dude! I thought you got lost looking for Bigfoot again! Where've you been man?"

Spencer glanced at Sam and the ghost of a smile returned to his lips. "Been tied up my friend. Listen, I have next to no time here, but this is a heads up that I may need a favor in the very near future."

He heard the crack of Socko's shoulder roll. "Ask and ye shall receive buddy."

"Knew I could count on you; details later; the stove's untended at the moment."

"Well what are you doing hanging on the phone? The whole damn building is likely to burn down any second!"

"No worries; I have the fire department on speed dial. I'll talk at you later."

"Ja mata ne!"

Both phones clicked off and Spencer reached for Sam's hand.

"Ok Mädchen; are you up for it? We'll speak softly…but I'm still carrying the big stick."

She nodded approvingly. Much better. "Let's do this." Squeezing his hand in return, she took a breath and opened the door.


	27. Chapter 27

A/N: Once again, a nod to the genius of Dr. Seuss, who is following us through this story.

o O o

She took one determined step into the hallway, pausing when Spencer failed to follow. "One minute Mädchen; I forgot something," he explained in a low voice.

"You know I'm with you no matter what, right?" she reminded him softly.

"That's the one thing I'm sure of Sam. I'm right behind you."

"OK, I'll go check on the stove." She slipped away as Spencer disappeared back into the bedroom.

Glancing upwards, he spoke quietly to the empty room. "Happy Mother's Day Mom. It figures that on your day, Dad would decide to steal the show. Just like always, he has to call the shots. Well I'm not going to let him be the headliner today Mom. I'm not going to be bullied and I'm not going to be cowed. I'm proud of Sam. I'm proud of my choices and I won't say otherwise. I'll give him a chance, for Carly, and for you, but if it comes to it, I have a couple of tricks up my sleeve." He slid the top bureau drawer open, eying the contents thoughtfully. Opening the small music box that had belonged to his mother, he smiled when the miniature ice skaters glided around in figure eights as _Carol of the Bells_ tinkled in the background. Out of season, but it always reminded him of her. He emptied the box of its lone treasure, slipping it into his pocket before closing the box gently. Speaking to himself, he headed for the door. "What do you suppose happens in a game of tug of war when someone just lets go? _I'm afraid that sometimes you'll play lonely games too. Games you can't win 'cause you'll play against you. _Good luck Dad; there's not much point in being king of an empty castle."

When he stepped through the door, his pulse was fast but his head was high. Ready…set…GO…

o O o

Sam resumed her position in the kitchen, amused to find Granddad hovering anxiously over the simmering pot. "Hey Granddad, how's it going?" she asked amiably.

"Hello there Sam; I was just, umm, previewing what's for dinner."

She leaned in conspiratorially, "It's OK Granddad; Spencer hasn't set anything on fire in weeks."

He paled, whispering back, "doesn't that mean he's _overdue?_"

"Hmm…I hadn't thought of it exactly that way," Sam commented with a smile. "Don't worry; I'll keep an eye on it. Why don't you go catch up with Carly? I'm sure she has loads to tell you, with prom coming up next weekend, and graduation right around the corner."

"Well if you think it's safe," Granddad mumbled doubtfully, shuffling back towards the living room. Sam watched him with a pang. Granddad Shay had always been energetic - full of vitality, but today he looked slow and tired. She wasn't sure exactly how old he was – past eighty now? For the first time the thought crossed her mind that Carly's small family could get even smaller. And here was Spencer on the verge of a potentially permanent split from his father, as she encouraged him all the way. So which mountain should she actually be moving? A question that would have to be pondered later, because Spencer –

"Thanks babe, " he leaned in to give her a kiss. "I've got this; would you get the shrimp out for me?"

Or maybe now. That was definitely intended as a heads up; Spencer NEVER called her "babe."

"I'm on it sweetie." Scooting past him to the fridge, she reflected that he'd neglected to mention that he was ALSO bringing the red cape.

Taking the package from her with a small smile, he looked over his shoulder at the group in the living room. "Hi Granddad, we're glad you can be with us today." Almost as an afterthought he added, "And what a nice surprise. Welcome home Dad." His tone was mild, but standing at his elbow, Sam could feel the current running underneath.

Carly shot a worried look into the kitchen; Sam thought she might have missed the earlier exchange, otherwise occupied in an animated conversation with her father. Animated on her end anyway; while his head was inclined towards his daughter in an attentive manner, the Colonel's eyes flicked around the room as if searching for hidden threats. Sam was certain HE hadn't missed it, and just as certain that Spencer hadn't intended him to. She inched closer to him as the Colonel rose from his seat.

"Spencer," the Colonel acknowledged curtly. "You're looking well."

"I am well, thank you. And you? How have you been?"

"Fair to middling, Son. Fair to middling. That aside, perhaps you'd care to introduce me to –"

Carly jumped in nervously. "Oh my gosh, Dad, I was so excited to see you that I completely forgot that you haven't met my BEST FRIEND Sam. She does the web show with Freddie and me, and –"

Inside, Sam was shaking her head, thinking 'sorry my friend, but we're not going to play it that way.' "AND," she finished for Carly, "I'm Spencer's girlfriend. Very pleased to meet you after all this time. Sir."

The challenge in her tone was unmistakable and Carly clasped her hands together nervously. "Maybe you'd like to see the studio Dad; Sam and I can show you the whole set up. We have a green screen and a whole slew of awesome props…"

Ignoring both girls, the Colonel focused intently on Spencer. "Is this true Spencer?"

"Oh sure Dad. They've got a fab set up. You should definitely take a look. Freddie is a tech wizard. He even programmed my phone to accept voice commands."

"That is NOT. What I meant."

"Really? Because I'm pretty sure that the relative awesomeness of the props was the only part of that conversation that was subject to opinion and therefore might require substantiation. Everything else was strictly factual." The thunderheads gathered as he continued, "But as Sam says, good things bear repeating. If your actual question relates to the nature of our relationship, then by all means, let me clear the air and answer. Yes, Sam is Carly's best friend, and yes, Sam is ALSO my girlfriend."

"Well then Spencer, I think you will need to further clarify your definition of _girlfriend._ Certainly this young lady is a girl, and as Carly's _friend_ I'm willing to accept that she is also your _friend – _I sincerely hope I have not misconstrued you."

Locking eyes with his father, his gaze did not waver. "You're right Dad. I should definitely clarify that statement. It would be unfair to call Sam just my girlfriend. Sam is my motivation. Sam is my inspiration. Sam is my compass. Sam brings Technicolor to a black and white world. I love her."

"You LOVE her," the Colonel repeated to himself. "Am I to understand that you are _involved_ with this girl?"

"That's no business of yours Dad, and quite frankly, your 'understanding' of the situation is not required."

"You're telling me that you're IN LOVE. That you're involved with - as in having sexual relations? With a teenager? A HIGH SCHOOL student?" he roared at Spencer. "This is the absolute last straw Spencer. I left you IN CHARGE of this household. I left you IN CHARGE of your sister. You're an adult. I expected you to behave in an adult fashion. I expected you to be a role model. I came home early because there are some financial arrangements to be made. As much as it pains us to discuss, your Granddad won't always be here to deal with these things. I need to know whether they can be left in your hands. And this is what I find. This is _beyond_ outrageous Spencer. I think you need to take this girl home, and then you and I are going to have a SERIOUS conversation about what needs to happen in your immediate future."

Spencer clasped Sam's hand tightly. She'd been unnaturally quiet; emotions swirling in her eyes. She'd started the afternoon as just Sam, but all of her versions were on alert, just waiting. Any moment now a button would be pushed and one of them would rush to the surface…

"She IS home Dad. "

"_What?_" No longer loud, his quiet question was somehow much more ominous.

"Sam. Is. Home. She lives here."

Carly didn't think it was possible for someone to turn that shade of red without having a stroke. "Daddy," she pleaded desperately, "Please just listen to-"

"Be still," he commanded, never taking his eyes from Spencer. "This does not concern you."

"Are you telling me this girl's parents CONDONE this relationship? What kind of parents allow their daughter to behave in such a fashion? Furthermore, what sort of man takes advantage of a girl who clearly has inadequate supervision and guidance?"

When Sam stepped around the counter and raised her chin, he knew the button was pushed. Which Sam was engaged? He followed immediately, standing beside her with his arms folded across his chest as though he had just stepped out of his own cartoon.

"Do not speak of things about which you have no knowledge, Colonel Shay. It leaves open the opportunity for error. I think you are a man who doesn't like to be wrong, and I assure you that if you continue to pursue this disagreement with Spencer – and with me – you will find yourself in a very wrong place."

"Girl, you are out of line. "

"Respectfully sir, you are. You imply that I can't possibly know my own mind, but that couldn't be farther from the truth."

The glint in Spencer's eye alarmed Carly; she was very afraid that whatever came next would precipitate the eruption. She looked beseechingly at Granddad, who was watching the volley with increasing agitation.

"What would Noelle say, Steven? " Granddad interrupted unexpectedly. "You dishonor her memory, behaving this way." All eyes turned to him in surprise.

"She's not HERE Dad. She's gone and I can't get her back," the Colonel replied fiercely. "There is no one to deal with this but me, and clearly some dealing needs to be done."

"Don't act like she doesn't MATTER Dad." Spencer jumped in. "She ALWAYS matters. I did this for HER. I watched over Carly for HER. You LEFT us Dad. You left me to do your job. You left Carly without any parents at all. What gives you the right to come in here and pass judgment on our lives? We're too much like her. You can't stand it can you – the creativity, the spontaneity, the lack of structure. It just makes you crazy."

"Oh you were spontaneous all right. And you were DEFINITELY lacking structure. And you were also lacking inhibition, good judgment and moral values of any kind. You call this creativity? **I** call it bohemian debauchery."

"Is that how you felt about Mom?" Spencer dug in his pocket. The stone sparkled when he held it to the light, recently polished and as brilliant as the day it had been slipped on his mother's finger. Without a word he slipped it on Sam's hand– not on her left, but on her right, where she stared at it wide-eyed. "This is what I'm telling you Dad. Whether or not you agree. There is no sense in being in a relationship unless you're in it for the long haul. I was going to give this to her for graduation, but you changed my mind. I'm giving it to her now. This is my promise to her that I will NEVER WALK AWAY. It is my promise to always put her first. When the day comes, the only person in the world with the power to keep me from moving that ring to her other hand is Sam herself."

The silence grew as father and son stared each other down.

"You are two of the most bull-headed men I have ever met," Granddad opined. "You don't think you're alike? You're not at each other's throats because of the things that make you different. Don't be a hypocrite Son; you're holding a double standard. Are you saying that your relationship with Noelle was wrong? Of course you're not. You loved her. It's evident that Spencer loves Sam. You have no room to call the kettle black - tell them the story of how you met their mother and got her to marry you. If you won't tell them, I will. That man still exists somewhere, and you need to find him again - before you find yourself in that very wrong place." He moved to pat Sam on the shoulder and she flashed him a grateful smile.

"You're AGREEING with him Dad? I didn't rear my children this way."

"You didn't rear them at all Steven. Noelle did. And I did. And Spencer did. And all things considered, we did a damn good job. So I want you to TELL them, because I do think it's possible to reach a meeting of the minds, and I will not let you throw away the good work that we did. She's not gone Steven; she's still here in your children, and it would break her heart to see this."

The words came slowly, dragged out reluctantly, from some far place. He seemed to examine them as he dusted the memories off and the picture grew in front of them. "She was beautiful kids, just beautiful…"


	28. Chapter 28

o O o

A/N: Best wishes to all residents of "The Vault," past, present, and future. If the name is tongue in cheek, we shall never tell. .. As everyone surely knows by now, I am nowhere close to owning the rights to any Elvis Presley tune, and as previously mentioned, neither can I claim any Disney adaptation.

Many thanks to all readers and reviewers; I wish you a prosperous new year!

o O o

The Colonel was not a natural storyteller, his delivery was abrupt - as though the need to deliver the content in the fewest number of words was more important than the story itself. "It was early December, and I was shepherding the young guys, the new recruits who didn't have passes to go home for Christmas. We went to the winter concert at the University; your mom was just a freshman in the choir." He stopped and cleared his throat. "Not even eighteen years old – she had a late birthday. Supposed to be a Christmas baby but came a couple of days early, thus the name. She had a solo – I thought she was channeling the heavenly host. There was something otherworldly about her. She WAS the music; she lived it. She breathed it. I was smitten. I stopped her afterwards, asked her out on the spot. "

Spencer narrowed his eyes, seeing immediately the direction the story would take. Carly, on the other hand, sat on the edge of her seat, always enthralled by any story about her mother. "Maybe there was divine intervention; I don't know – here I was a perfect stranger, but she agreed. Something about a man in uniform, I guess. I wanted to take her to dinner and a movie, but she wanted to go ICE SKATING, of all things." Spencer raised his eyebrows as the image appeared unbidden in his mind. His father on ice skates? That must have been a sight. "I was miserable at it," he admitted, "but she was something else. I pretty much gave up - I would happily have frozen to death there by the ice just watching her; she was so light on her feet, she made it look like she was floating. I felt like she was imprinted on the inside of my eyelids; every time I closed my eyes I saw her. From that night on, I spent every free moment with her. But being who I was, I PLANNED every moment. I scheduled every second. I arrived precisely on time for every date, always punctual, completely reliable, and entirely predictable. I gave her the expected gifts in the expected order. As you may have guessed, Noelle was much more of a free spirit. She didn't view organization and time management in the same light that I did; she found me at times…inflexible and this bothered her. She made a point of trying to 'break me out' of the predictable pattern, and at least on one front, she was spectacularly successful." He shot a pointed look at Spencer, who nodded that he understood.

"Your dad was beside himself," Granddad interjected. "He didn't want to tell me, you see, that –"

"DAD," Steven admonished. "Let me tell it." He composed himself and continued in as neutral a voice as he could muster. "When she… turned up pregnant in March, I told her that of course, I would marry her. Noelle didn't take too kindly to that. I didn't exactly ASK her; I just told her. I was in shock when she refused. What would it take, I asked, for her to change her mind? 'You're too uptight Steve; you need to unleash your creativity. I can't imagine that you're ever going to be happy with someone like me.' 'You're wrong,' I said. 'You're everything to me. Please don't walk away.' So I bought her a ring – the very one that's on your finger, young lady," nodding to Sam, "and I proposed properly, down on one knee, the whole bit. She still turned me down. I was crushed. I asked her every day for two weeks straight. No good."

"What did you do Dad?" Carly was almost bouncing, so excited to hear the rest of the story.

For the first time he smiled. "One night I serenaded her in the dorm. I signed in at the front desk five minutes before lock up and she came down with a couple of friends in tow, probably intending to send me packing." He paused for a moment, recalling the scene. "I should probably add that your mother lived in the only all girls freshman dorm on campus, the rest being co-ed by that time. Because of its unique status – housing only first year girls, it was affectionately known by the students as 'The Vault.'"

"Actually Dad," Spencer pointed out in amusement, "that dorm is still on campus and I'm positive it's called the –"

"Never mind," the Colonel cut him off brusquely. "My point is that the RD in that building took her duties as guardian of the girls quite seriously, and I was already pushing my luck – a 25 year old adult male signing in just moments before closing. Before your mother could say a word I burst into song right there in the lobby – you should have seen her, the big 'O' on her face turned into the most delighted laugh. She had a beautiful laugh, just like her beautiful voice. Her friends were mortified, but when I finished my songs and asked her if she would marry me now, she kissed me and said 'Yes Steve, I'll marry you now.' And that was that. I married her in June. Spencer was born that November."

"What did you SING?" Carly demanded. A good story demands details, and this one was still lacking.

"Well Carly, it's really not important WHAT I sang; it was the fact that I did it at all that-"

"DAD," she complained. "Really, what did you sing?"

Spencer pulled Sam close and added, "These things are important to women, Dad, you may as well tell her because she's not going to rest until you do. Believe me. I know."

"If you must know –"

"I must," Carly insisted.

With a straight face the Colonel said, "The first one was Elvis."

"Elvis?" Sam choked, trying not to laugh.

"Elvis," he said firmly. "Can't Help Falling In Love. But I think the one that really got her was the second one. Once Upon a Dream."

Carly lit up. "From _Sleeping Beauty_! Dad, that's so ROMANTIC! _ You'll love me at once, the way you did once upon a dream..."_

Sam noted that the tempers in the room had cooled considerably as the Colonel told his tale. Was it possible that they had successfully negotiated the minefield? She glanced from the ring on her finger back to Spencer, impulsively turning in his arms to kiss him. About to whisper "I love you," she sniffed delicately as the odor of scorched peppers wafted over from the kitchen.

"Oh chizz …"


	29. Chapter 29

o O o

"I TOLD you he was overdue," Granddad fussed as Sam moved back to the stove.

"Yeah. This happens. Not to worry – the fire marshal got tired of the calls and finally ran us all through auxiliary training in fire suppression. And this isn't even technically on fire. It's just out of water," she soothed.

Spencer looked over her shoulder to inspect the damage and sighed. "One of these days…"

"Think how dull life would be if everything always went AS PLANNED," Sam teased.

"True," he allowed, "But at least we wouldn't be hungry."

"You know what? I can fix this. Give me a minute."

"Oh no Sam, I know well done is fine with you, but we're not serving thi-"

She shook her head. "I know. I'm not going to fix THIS specifically; I'm going to fix this in general. Hold down the fort." Turning to their guests she continued, "Umm…please excuse me for a few moments while I make some alternate dinner arrangements." She backed away with a smile. Carly stared after her. Who was this polite and capable Sam?

o O o

Away from eavesdropping ears, Sam hesitated with her finger over the call button. She really hated owing people, but today was important to Spencer. By extension, it was important to her. The phone rang five times before being picked up on the other end.

"What's wrong?" Pam asked immediately. "You were just here. Two times in one day? There must be something wrong."

"Hi Mom. Does there have to be something wrong for me to call you?"

A short laugh. "Don't know kid. You tell me."

"Yeah well, nothing's WRONG exactly; we just have a little culinary emergency. Spencer's dad dropped in unexpectedly and we need to hustle up a presentable meal. With the buffet going on, I was hoping Stanley could spare me a tray."

"How about you ask _him_ then?"

"Wait, Mom – I thought YOU could ask him. I'm not always good at making nice."

"Sure, I could ask him. But you should. He's right here –" There was a shuffle as she handed the phone over. "It's Sam," she whispered. "She's gotta ask you something."

"Hello?"

"Umm…Hi Stanley, I mean, Mr. Armistead –"

"How about Dad? Could we try Dad?" The voice was hopeful. "You know Sam, I never had any children, but I always wanted them. It meant a lot to your mom, you coming to see her for Mother's Day. I'm looking forward to Father's Day this year – it will be the first year I get to be a father. I hope you'll give me a chance."

Sam pulled the phone away from her ear and stared at it. Dad? He was still talking so she tuned back in to see what she'd missed. "- yet and maybe it's a bit soon, but I feel like I have a lot of time to make up for, you see?"

"I….guess we can maybe try that," she started cautiously, "I should probably warn you that I'm not exactly a model daughter, but… I always WANTED to be. " Maybe this was her chance… "So Sta-, I mean, er, Dad, like many teenage daughters before me, I'm calling because I need something."

"Sam, what is it that you need?" he asked enthusiastically. She visualized him on the other end of the call, preparing for his Father of the Year award.

"Short version, I need a catering tray – dinner for five, preferably within the next two hours. And I can't exactly afford to pay for it right now, but I was hoping that you might let me work it off, you know, bussing tables or something."

"Is that all? Food I got, Sam. Lots of food. I'll get it for you, no problem, no charge."

"No really, I want to pay for it."

"NO," he said firmly. "Not necessary. But if you really want to work- FOR PAY mind you, you stop in when you have time and we'll talk about it."

"Really? Thanks… Dad, that's actually…a really timely offer and…I appreciate it."

"I'm delighted to be able to help. About the tray, do you want to pick it up, or, I know, your mom can drop it off! She's going home in about half an hour anyway."

Sam paled. "Oh no!" she protested hastily. "I don't want to put Mom to all that trouble. I'm sure one of us can run over and pick it up. "

"Nonsense! You have guests! It's no trouble at all. Here, you talk to your mom. I'm going to go get your tray ready."

"Thanks," Sam whispered faintly.

"See kid? I told you to just ask him. That worked out fine, right?"

"Mom, seriously, you don't have to drop the tray off. I'll send…Freddie. He never has anything important to do anyway. "

"Ha! You're funny. You think that neurotic mama of his is going to let her precious baby out of her sight on Mother's Day? That boy's not going anywhere. Besides, I got nothing else planned for the afternoon. Stanley's working until 6 and your sister is _unavailable_ until at least 4:00. She's BABYSITTING for the married with child. Like I said, there's nothing else going on."

"Are you sure? I mean, it's out of your way and all," Sam tried desperately.

"Girl, it's starting to sound like you don't WANT me to drop off the tray," Pam replied peevishly. "I'm not trying to horn in on your dinner. Stanley just wants to HELP you. It makes him HAPPY. I like it when Stanley's happy. What's the big deal?"

Sam let out a breath in defeat. "It's fine Mom. It's great that Stanley's giving me the tray. It's cool that you're dropping it off. All around good day, right? Sounds like I might even be getting a job out of the deal. What more could a girl want?"

"Exactly," Pam harrumphed.

Sam twisted the ring on her finger. "And Mom?"

"Yeah kid?"

"There was one other thing I wanted to tell you."

"Oh God, I knew it. What happened?"

Sam smiled even as she rolled her eyes. "Don't be so dramatic Mom!"

"Well, then don't be so cryptic!"

"Spencer gave me a ring – it's not really an engagement ring," she clarified hastily, "but I…think it will be. Someday. If that's what I want. It was his mother's," she added quietly.

Pam was silent for a moment, unusual for a woman with normally loud opinions.

"Mom?"

"I'm happy for you Baby. I am. It IS a good day. Now I have an even better reason to stop by. Gotta see the ring don't I? Your sister will want to hear all about it. Actually" Pam chortled, "your sister will be absolutely GREEN. I'll be there within the hour – polish it up right, ok?"

"It's not really the ring that's important though Mom; it's what comes with it."

"Believe me Sam – that's one lesson I learned well and good. Look how far ahead of the game you are, knowing it already. I told you before that you did good – you've got a winner there girl. You hold onto him."

"Mom, I believe I'll take your advice on that one."

"It's about time someone did!" Pam laughed again. "See you soon kid."

"Ciao Mom."

Sam fell back on the bed. Dinner was coming. But so was her mother.


	30. Chapter 30

o O o

Steven watched Sam disappear down the hall, noting the click of the door that could only be Spencer's. He sat down with a sigh, forced to accept what was patently obvious. With his hands resting on his knees, he asked resignedly, "She's really the one then? I'm not unhappy to see you make some kind of commitment – it's high time you did. But she's so YOUNG Spencer; I have to question whether it's wise."

"Dad, you just stood here and admitted to doing the same thing –"

The Colonel held up a hand. "It was NOT the same thing. I will agree that there are parallels, but –

"Oh RIGHT. It's not the same thing," Spencer interrupted sarcastically. "Sam's not pregnant."

"Keep it that way." His voice was sharp. "And that's not the point I'm trying to make here. Well, it is, and it isn't. Yes, your mother was pregnant. I did what was right. This is not the way our lives would have progressed in other circumstances. I would have let her finish school. I would have made sure she had the opportunity to choose her own way. Of course, I would have hoped that she still chose me. There is no doubt in my mind that she was the only one for me, but how could she ever really know that I was the only one for her? She didn't have that chance. "

Spencer stared at his father incredulously. "Surely you don't believe that Dad. Mom absolutely had a choice. She didn't have to marry you. You said she wasn't _going_ to marry you. But you proved to her that you could be the man she wanted you to be. Even after she married you, she didn't _have_ to stay. You were gone a lot even then. There are a lot of women who couldn't or wouldn't live like that. Mom was a strong-minded woman. Sam is very like her in that respect. Mom wouldn't have been with you if she didn't want to be. She didn't leave you Dad. She loved you. I understand – I ACCEPT that people change. I hope that Sam and I change in the same direction. Is it possible that we'll change in different directions? Yes, it's possible. I've known that from the beginning, but that's a risk that any two people take."

Tapping a finger, the Colonel took a breath but was silenced by a look from his father. "Let it go Steven," Granddad said gently. "This isn't about Noelle. You understand that don't you? "

Carly had been so quiet they'd almost forgotten she was there. Sniffling audibly she moved to sit next to her father, resting her head against his chest. "I miss her too Daddy. I miss her so much. Some days there are things I really want to tell her, and I hope she can hear me. So I tell her anyway. But I can't hear what she says back Daddy, no matter how hard I try..." Her voice dissolved into silent tears and Steven could do nothing but close his arm around her and let her cry.

"I know Baby. I know." When he raised his head to answer his father, a decade fell away and the pain was still raw and fresh in his eyes. "Maybe if she'd chosen differently, she'd still be here. Maybe some other man, some man who was _home_, would have found the lump sooner. Maybe then –"

"STOP Son, you know that's not true. I know it kills you that you couldn't save her, but –"

"How do you think I felt when I lost her? Lost her to an enemy that I couldn't see and couldn't fight? Relying on doctors and drug cocktails and how was I to know if they were really doing the best they could to save her? I loved her but I couldn't SAVE her. "

"You couldn't. But neither could anyone else have done Steven. In your heart you know that. None of us were ready to let her go - I know there are still times that it seems like just yesterday. But Noelle did not want you, or any of us, to stop living our lives. Your son is giving you a gift here – he's taking a step to move forward, to imagine a future that celebrates life and love – the legacy that Noelle left to your children. And to you, if you'll only accept it."

Sam hesitated, poised to enter the room that radiated an emotionally charged silence. Minutes ago things had seemed under control. SOMETHING had happened, but without knowing what that something was, she was unsure how to proceed. Drawn inexorably to Spencer, she rested her hand lightly in the crook of his arm.

Spencer covered Sam's hand with his own. "We were just talking about Mom," he explained quietly.

"Ah," she nodded. She started tentatively, not sure how she could make this better but determined to try. "Colonel Shay, I'm really sorry… that I never had the chance to meet Noelle. I've _imagined_ what she must have been like, but I feel like I should know her better." Glancing again at the ring on her finger, she continued "Do you think that maybe one day you could tell me – tell US, some more stories about her?"

Carly raised her head in alarm, gazing wide-eyed at Sam. Spencer wrapped his arms around her reassuringly and Granddad looked on, keenly interested as the Colonel slowly focused his attention on the pair. Several seconds passed and Sam began to worry that she'd made a terrible mistake.

"Do I think I could tell you…more stories about Noelle?" he repeated musingly. "Do I think…" falling silent, he closed his eyes, conjuring her image in his mind. He could almost hear her, the gentle chiding tone she employed when his hard-headed inflexibility blinded him to something that she very much wanted him to see.

"Colonel Shay, I'm sorry – I didn't mean –"

Steven waved his hand in Sam's general direction and a shuddering sigh escaped. "I think…maybe I could do that." He seemed surprised by his own answer, a bemused expression crossing his face.

Carly lit up as only Carly could, hugging her father tightly. Granddad nodded approvingly as Spencer spoke for them. "I think we would ALL like that Dad."

Sam nodded vigorously. "Oh yes sir, we would!"

Steven managed a lopsided smile that reminded her so much of Spencer that she immediately smiled in return – a bright, genuine smile born of a gladness of heart that asked for nothing in return.

Absently stroking Carly's hair, he did offer something in return. "Sam?"

"Yes, sir?"

There was another small sigh, but Steven held onto his crooked smile. "Just… call me Dad."


	31. Chapter 31

o O o

A/N: As our story draws closer to the end, I realize that Sam has grown pretty far away from her small screen self. I personally believe that she has the potential for greatness and I have put forces in place to allow her to grow up. If you've stayed with me this far, I hope you're willing to allow her to finish that journey – the goddess emergent. Your thoughts on this topic, or any other aspect of this fic, are welcome.

o O o

Sam hung over Steven's shoulder as Carly settled the laptop in front of her father and launched the virtual tour. "See Dad, here's the Quad and this is Big Bridges, and that building there is Little Bridges. It's the Hall of Music; it's just beautiful. Look here, you can see the inside if you click this…"

"Excited, is she?" Granddad chuckled to Spencer.

"You could say that," Spencer agreed affectionately. "I think she's about ready to fly."

"Looks that way doesn't it? I imagine it will be pretty quiet around here without the kids. Have you…given any thought to what's next for you Spencer? "

"That's actually something that I wanted to discuss with you Granddad," Spencer answered quietly. "I didn't realize Dad would be home so soon. I wanted to present him with a fait accompli on that front, but I'm still chasing the ducks."

"So you've got a plan of some sort?"

"I do; I've put some things in motion but…I'm not sure what resources might be available and I can't nail this thing down until I have a better idea of the financial landscape. As I said earlier, Sam's living here and she'll be starting at SCCC in August. It sounds like she's going to be working a few hours a week in her step-father's restaurant; that's ok, she needs that independence and the income will go towards her dental program. Ideally I'd like to stay here while she's in school; if I have to move us I will, but if that happens, Sam's going to feel like she has to contribute towards the household expenses and I don't want her under that kind of pressure. "

The Colonel looked up from a 360 degree view of the typical dorm room. "That sounds like an excellent plan _for Sam_, which I don't fault. However, what I didn't hear in that run-down was a single word about what you're going to be doing while the girls are studying industriously."

_You weren't supposed to hear it at all, _Spencer thought in annoyance.

"Steven, I believe Spencer was talking to me," Granddad admonished gently.

"Perhaps, but I have a vested interest in this particular conversation, Dad. So Spencer, I'm wondering why you feel unable to support your future wife on your own dime."

Shooting a worried look his way, Sam eased away from the couch as Spencer turned reluctantly to face his father. "I didn't say that I _can't_ support her. I said I'd_ rather_ stay here."

"Ah. So then you **can** support her. I expect the legal profession is lucrative."

Carly inhaled sharply and glanced nervously at Spencer.

"I expect you're right. But since I'm not a lawyer I can't really confirm that from personal experience."

"I see. Had problems with the bar exam, did you? Nothing that hitting the books a little harder can't cure, I'm sure."

"Dad…I never sat for the bar. I quit law school. I don't _want_ to be a lawyer. In fact, I can't think of too many things I'd like **less** than being a lawyer."

"I know."

"Excuse me?"

"I said _I know_. Did you think for one second that I didn't? Of course I knew. What I didn't know was how long it was going to take you to tell me."

Spencer swiveled his head to stare at Granddad. "Then that means that you-"

Granddad shrugged apologetically. "I had to tell him you know. If you two chose not to address it with each other, that wasn't my business."

"So you haven't been in school. What exactly have you been doing?"

"Sculpting. Drawing, Painting. Things that I love to do," Spencer answered uncomfortably.

"You can't live on art Spencer."

"Steven, don't be hard on the boy. Did you know that he has a sculpture in the Seattle Art Museum?"

" He's not a **boy** Dad; he's thirty years old living on my allowance, creating so called 'art' out of other people's trash" he replied harshly." How long am I expected to allow that to continue? In what way does that encourage him to grow up?"

"Just wait a minute. Dad, if you knew all along that I dropped out of law school, why did you never say anything about it?"

Steven let the silence grow before answering shortly, "You're not the only one who does things for your mother. But there are limits Spencer. Choosing to be a kid forever is not, in fact, an option. At some point a swift kick in the –"

"Steven," Granddad broke in reprovingly, "You haven't even heard what he has to say."

"That's because he hasn't said it. After all this time I'm not convinced that anything will ever be forthcoming."

"Son, you make it sound like Spencer has done nothing of importance."

The Colonel raised his brows expectantly.

"Dad, why do we keep coming back to this? We go around and around and back and forth, and every time I think maybe we've established a neutral zone, you jump right back in it. My _whole_ _life_ Dad – all I ever wanted was to show you what I could do, but you would never agree to look. Why Dad? Why won't you look?"

And there it was – the very heart of their disagreement, the ultimate source of everything Spencer had ever done. Looking from Carly, anxiously wringing her hands to Spencer, whose blood pressure was rising with every breath, to their father studying the scene with a curious detachment, Sam reminded herself of the possible consequences of this encounter. She knew what it was like to have a father walk away. _The story is NOT already written… _

When you pick at a scab, it's bound to bleed. This one was oozing around the edges and likely abscessed. Weighing the options, she reached inside. She expected to find all her selves lined up like suits on a rack just waiting for her to slip one on. Surprised by what she found instead, Sam made a decision. After all, mountains don't move themselves. Standing quietly beside him, she patted Spencer's arm gently. Trust me. Be calm. Be still. She stepped in front of him, eyes bright and head high; despite the tension, the hint of a smile appeared on his face. The arisen goddess was revealed at last.

"Colonel Shay – Dad – I also have a vested interest in this conversation, and there are a few things that I need to say. I had a father once. He left when I was a little girl. I always thought it must be my fault that he left… It wasn't. " She paused and glanced at Carly, who seemed intent on permanently etching tiny crescents in the palms of her hands. "You're right that there is a time that kids are supposed to leave." Carly looked up in surprise.

The Colonel started to nod in approval but grew still as she continued. "But they're not supposed to leave like this. Just like my father wasn't supposed to leave the way he did. Kids grow up when you give them the freedom to make choices. They grow up when they learn from their experiences. They grow up by overcoming adversity, by facing their fears and keeping on even when their sneakers leak. You don't know me very well, so you'll just have to take my word for it that I've had a lot of leaky sneakers. There was a time that I believed that was only what I deserved, and I wouldn't have tried to move on to a place that was out of the rain. I wouldn't have tried to dig a little deeper or be any more than I was in that moment."

The elevator dinged softly behind them and the door slid open. One part of her noted the arrival but Sam was not finished. "I'm not sure how _you_ measure success. Is it the degree framed on the wall? Is it the medals on the uniform? Maybe it's a six figure paycheck. Spencer doesn't have those things, but that doesn't mean that he's unsuccessful, and it doesn't mean that he didn't grow up. Something that looks like wax on – wax off may really be something completely different. I can show you living and breathing proof that that's the truth. We're right here. You only have to look at Carly, who by rights should be a basket case but isn't, because Spencer was here to bring joy to her world. And me. I don't want to talk about what I might have been if I'd walked down a not so good street. I want to tell you that of all the people I've ever known, Spencer is the one who saw who I _could _be. And who I am now, and who I'm going to be, is because of him. "

"Sam, I'll give you credit. You're well spoken and obviously think very highly of Spencer. However, you're too close to the situation to clearly see it for what it is. Even now you're fighting his battles for him."

A loud snort erupted behind him. "Soldier man, you've got it _all _wrong. Sam's not fighting anyone's battles. Spencer's letting his good work speak for herself. "

Twisting around in his seat, the Colonel followed the heel of the vintage black suede Rodeo Drive cowboy boot up to the painted on Diesel triple button tabbed boot cut jeans, to the ruched turquoise tank making no pretense of modesty, to the antiqued Egyptian revival necklace that adorned the neck of the tall blonde woman toting a large warming bag.

"Incredible," he murmured to himself. "I had no idea…" He looked at Sam, whose expression mirrored the amused look on her mother's face.

"Colonel Shay, please meet my mother, Pam Puckett..."


	32. Chapter 32

o O o

A/N: Happy almost spring! I hope the sun is shining and bringing you cheer wherever you may be.

As everyone knows, I don't own _Leave it to Beaver_ – can you imagine if the Cleavers had Pam Puckett for a mother? Someone should definitely write that.

_Oh! The Places You'll Go! _ by Dr. Seuss is referenced again in this chapter. (Can you tell it's one of my favorites?)

o O o

Gum snapping, Pam stepped around the couch to hand dinner off to Sam. "Colonel, hmm? Sounds important. You got a first name - besides Dad I mean? _Colonel_ is just so stuffy, especially for family."

Clearing his throat, the Colonel rose politely. "Of course. Steven Shay, pleased to meet you…ma'am."

"No ma'ams here Steve. That's just so –"

"Stuffy. Right. I should have picked up on that," Steven replied wryly.

"Anyway, sorry to have interrupted your very serious-like conversation, but if there's one thing I know, it's men. And men don't like to find out that they've been barking up the wrong tree. Figured I'd save you a headache, point you in the right direction."

Steven stared at her, trying and failing to fit her into a category of known archetypes. "I'm sorry, but…"

"Don't know what was said before I got here, and don't know what's going to be said after I leave, but I think I got the gist of what's going on in this moment. Probably not my business but I'm butting in anyhow – nobody ever accused me of having good manners. My girl's set on Spencer and as it happens, I think she made an uncommonly good choice. I don't know you, but I know him, and what I'm wondering is whether he is who he is because of you, or in spite of you."

Granddad hid a smile behind his hand; Steven was clearly astonished. "I'm really not sure what –"

Without taking her eyes off Steven, Pam waved in Carly's direction. "Don't just sit there girl – go help Sam set the table!" Carly scrambled up as she continued, " Napkin, dinner fork, salad fork, plate, service knife – facing left, mind you, spoon, and watch your spacing!"

"Oh, right! Yes, m – umm…Mrs. …umm…OK?"

"So Steve, I'll let you in on a little secret. I wasn't June Cleaver. Wasn't perfect – never claimed to be. I did the best I could do, on my own with twins. Frankly, my best wasn't all that. It's a freaking miracle that either one of my girls has her head on straight. I worried about them, you know? Their father, well, both of us really – left them with a lot of baggage. Didn't want to admit that but I can say it now because there's a lot of hard work being done on both sides to reduce it to carry on size. Sam says that she owes a lot to Spencer; I think that's a fair statement. I walk in and hear you saying that she can't see the forest for the trees and I think to myself - I know the type. Father knows best. Head of the household – lay down the law. Let me ask you a question. I'm betting you gave this man a job to do. What was it?"

"…Pam, I don't think…you really needn't concern yourself… "

"Don't they speak English in the armed forces Steve? Spit it out! It's an easy question. What job did you give Spencer?"

"You really don't know when to stop do you?" The Colonel's color was rising but Pam just laughed.

"Easy there soldier man. I'm just trying to move things along so you can enjoy your dinner. But if you don't want to play, I guess one of these other folks can give the answer just as well. So Spencer?"

"Sure thing Pam. Dad left me _in charge_ of the household and _in charge _of my sister. That about sums it up." He smiled, clearly amused by the Colonel's discomfiture.

"The man in charge. Well then, let's see how good a job you actually did. Sam!"

"Yeah Mom?"

"You remember how many detentions you had freshman year?"

"Twenty-seven, give or take."

"And where were you, two months – summer between 9th and 10th?"

"That would be juvenile detention."

"Sophomore year – I asked you what kind of job you thought you wanted after high school. What did you tell me?"

"That I was going to make fries at Mickey D's."

"And you remember how many days of school you ditched last year?"

"Yes – nineteen. Principal Franklin said if I missed any more, I'd fail the year."

"And how many have you missed this year - since you took up with Spencer?"

"Just one. My birthday."

"Detentions?"

"None," Sam answered promptly.

"For the record, are you still planning on babysitting fry baskets?"

Sam smiled. "Only if Stanley needs me to." Turning to the Colonel she added, "I'm going to dental hygienist school."

"That's all well and good," Steven answered stiffly. "I'm…delighted that Spencer had such a positive influence on Sam. However, I didn't leave Spencer in charge of Sam. I left him in charge of Carly."

"Oh that's right. Carly. Carly!"

"Yes?" Carly answered cautiously.

"Dad seems to think maybe Spencer didn't do such a good job around here. I guess I must have missed something, so why don't you give me the run down. You been spending a lot of time in detention lately? Maybe you got a substance abuse problem? How about babies? Any babies around here I don't know about? Maybe you've been skipping out on school – gonna graduate on time? I guess the fries could be calling _your_ name. Any of that sound like you?"

"No!" Carly protested. "I have perfect attendance. My GPA's 4.21 and I'm going to Pomona next year. I got a scholarship. I'm not sure what I want to do yet; I think there's plenty of time to figure that out. People should choose careers that have meaning for them, and I want to choose the right…one…" Her voice trailed off uncertainly at the end. Maybe not the best thing to say under the circumstances… "Umm…I think Spencer wants to choose the right one too," she added hesitantly.

The Colonel's eyed narrowed. "Indeed. I'm all ears. Please, enlighten us Son. What meaningful career do you have in your sights?"

"Well Dad, since you asked, I'm going into social work."

"SOCIAL work?" he asked incredulously.

"I believe I just said that. I'm hoping to work with kids in the foster care system. And I'm specializing in art therapy. I'm going back to school; classes start right after Memorial Day. The Dean's going to give me a break on the tuition if I agree to sit as a visiting artist during the fall term."

A slow smile grew on Sam's face as Granddad reached to pat Spencer on the shoulder. "Good choice Spencer, very good choice," he said quietly. "I'm really proud of what you've done here, and I can't think of anything better than for you to share this gift with other kids who can benefit from it. There is greatness in you. Your mother…would agree."

"Dad," Steven started sharply. "You're not going to-"

"Yes, Steven, I am. I'm satisfied that he has made up his mind. I'm satisfied with the decisions he's made. I'm satisfied that the funds will be used as his mother intended. Spencer – I should have turned these funds over to you several years ago. I didn't because frankly, I wasn't sure that it was in your best interest at the time. It's been held in trust – your share of the proceeds of your mother's life insurance policy. A portion was used to finish your undergraduate degree but a substantial balance remains; I think you'll find it adequate for your current needs."

Spencer closed his eyes for just a moment – _thank you Mom… _

Sam reached up to whisper, "Does this mean that plan A is done?"

"Mädchen, it does. This makes all the difference. We found the bright place where the Boom Band is playing – the banner's flip flapping and we're riding high; _ready for anything under the sky. _ You're fond of saying that I made you who you are; I didn't. You did that yourself; I just helped you believe. But believing in you meant that I could also believe in myself; I couldn't have done this without you. I love you Sam."

Sam's smile was radiant. "Have I told you how much better I like two than one? We did it _together_ Spence. We're on our way."

"I rest my case," Pam said quietly to Steven. "I'm sorry for you if you can't see what you have. My husband walked away from his children. I spent a lot of time trying to find Mr. Right – the guy who would be a good father for my girls. Encourage them. Be there to listen. Take an interest in their lives. Somebody to balance me out, show the kids what parenting is really supposed to be. I'd been thinking, isn't it funny – well, funny's not the right word. The kids would have a better one, but funny that I didn't find him until my girls don't need him anymore. But lately I've been thinking on that some more, and it could be I was wrong. They can make it on their own, sure – but isn't it so much better when they don't have to?" Turning to Sam she continued, "Hey Kid, c'mere and show me that ring. You didn't get to see mine either – don't wear it while I'm washing dishes. "

With her finger on the call button, Pam prepared to step back into the elevator.

"Would you like to stay Mom?"

"No, no – still gotta work on your sister this afternoon. That one's definitely a work in progress. You enjoy your dinner. For what it's worth, I think you tamed the beast." They glanced Steven's way and found him studying his family as though he was seeing them for the first time. "After all, who _wouldn't_ love you?"

Sam hugged her mother tightly. "Thanks Mom. I love you! "

Just before the elevator door slid shut, Pam called out a parting comment. "Nice to have met you Steve. You know what they say – if you can't beat 'em…."

Steven shook his head. "Never seen the like…" He walked quietly to join his family. "Spencer, I think we should seat the ladies. It looks like dinner's waiting…"


	33. Chapter 33

o O o

A/N: Readers are well aware that I didn't pen _How Do I Love Thee (Elizabeth Barrett Browning's Sonnet 43,) _but tedious protocol requires that I tell you so anyway.

o O o

Epilogue

It was a warm day for Seattle, topping 80 degrees with plenty of sunshine - perfect for a Renegade Razz. "Come on guys, we have to get one last smoothie – for old times' sake," Sam insisted.

"Good grief Sam – you're already talking about old times! We just graduated two months ago! Carly and I haven't even left Seattle and you're trying to make us ancient history," Freddie grumbled.

"Come on H.B. – Sam's right. We need to say goodbye to T Bo anyway. It won't hurt you to get away from your mother. She was pairing socks last time I checked."

Freddie grimaced. "Yeah, ok, let's go." Grabbing Carly's hand, he started towards the door, pausing to examine a new painting that had appeared on the wall. A small plaque held a caption – "_Know all ye who enter, herein lies the domain of the arisen goddess." _Resplendent in iridescent scales, the mermaid emerged from a tidal pool against a backdrop of a roaring waterfall. The artful arrangement of damp flaxen tresses made a small concession to modesty, but there was otherwise no doubt of the artist's intent to pay homage to the form beneath.

"You know Sam, I was going to say that he just keeps getting better, but that's not it. I think it's _you._"

Carly shot him a look, but he shook his head. "You know my heart belongs to you Sunshine. I'm just saying. Sam's really come into her own. I feel like we're meeting the new, grown up Samantha Puckett. Hi there, I'm Fred Benson. Pleased to meet you." He reached to shake her hand and stopped, noting the absence of the ring that had been on her finger since Mother's Day. "Sam… you're not wearing your ring?"

"Yes I am, " she replied complacently.

Freddie held her hand up and turned it back and forth. "Well unless your ring has an invisibility function, I'm pretty sure you're not."

"It helps if you're looking at the right hand, which in this case, is actually the left…" She waved the hand in question, eliciting a squee of excitement from Carly.

"OMG Sam! You moved it! Or Spencer moved it. Someone moved it!"

"We both moved it," Sam agreed. "But don't go making the guest list or anything. We have places to go, people to see, homework to do and all that jazz."

"Still…we're going to be SISTERS!"

"You know what this means Sam?" Freddie asked with mock seriousness. "This means that you and I could one day be in-laws."

"Don't get ahead of yourself Benson," Sam advised as the flush started on Carly's face.

"Oh, I don't know… love loves company…" he replied airily, urging Carly towards the door.

"Speaking of… hold on a second." Sam trotted down the hall. "Spence! We're going for smoothies. Are you coming?"

"I have a few more pages of this chapter to get through. Why don't you all go ahead and I'll be over shortly?"

"OK. Should I order for you?"

"I'll have whatever you're having, you know, in case you want it later," he teased with a smile.

"And _how do I love thee…Let me count the ways…" _her answer trailed away as she headed back down the hall.

o O o

Heading for the Groovy Smoothie, Spencer caught up to a man pushing an empty stroller. The man took his time, allowing the stroller's former occupant to set the pace. The toddler stopped frequently, examining a bottle cap, a penny, and a feather in quick succession before noticing that he was sharing the sidewalk with Spencer. The boy looked up at him curiously, and a smile spread across his face. Eyes sparkling, he yelled "CHEESE!" holding a pose for just a moment before running ahead to the shop door.

"Well hello there Ryan," Spencer called after him. "You've certainly grown to be a big boy."

Nodding vigorously, he reached up to tug impatiently on the door handle, looking over his shoulder to see how quickly Daddy was following.

"I'm sorry," Brad studied Spencer quizzically. "Have we met?"

Spencer shook his head. "No, but if you're Ryan's dad, then I hope you at least know _of_ me." He held out his hand to Brad. "Spencer Shay – I'm an artist. Some time ago your wife…commissioned a painting from me. "

Brad nodded. "Brad Miller. I know the one. It means a lot to her." He paused before continuing deliberately, "It means a lot to me. "

"That's the best kind of art. The art that means something."

"I would tend to agree. And…"

"Daddy! Hurry UP!"

"…thanks. I suspect you did me a good turn Spencer. I owe you one."

"If that's so, then you're welcome," he replied quietly. "I just capture what I see. As they say, art imitates life; it's up to the viewer to supply the interpretation."

"Maybe," Brad allowed. "But I think I'm more of a proponent of the _life imitates art_ school. This time you didn't capture it. This time you set it free."

"DADDY DADDY DADDY DADDY DADDY! When are you coming?" Ryan demanded.

Brad smiled indulgently at his son. "I'm coming Ryan."

Spencer reached to open the door. "There you go buddy."

Racing into the shop, Ryan continued at tip top volume. "MOMMY MOMMY MOMMY MOMMY MOMMY! Me and Daddy came to get you!"

Sam rose from her favorite table to claim a kiss (and hand what was left of his smoothie) to Spencer as the little boy flew across the room. April emerged from behind the counter, sweeping him up onto a hip.

"Hi baby boy. How was your day today?" she asked affectionately.

"You shouldn't be picking him up, dear heart," Brad admonished. "Put him down; I'll carry him, or he can get back in the stroller."

"Don't be a worrywart Daddy; he's fine. I'm fine. We're all fine." She set Ryan down, whereupon he promptly pressed his ear against April's stomach. He listened intently, finally pronouncing in a loud whisper "Matthew is _sleeping!"_

"And so should you be," April scolded gently. "Did Daddy forget that it's nap time?"

"Daddy thought he could wear the little guy out," Brad admitted, linking his arm through April's and turning for the door. "Let's go home Champ."

"Home!" Ryan parroted cheerfully. "We're going home," he repeated to Spencer in a confidential tone as he passed.

"What a coincidence. So am I!" Turning to Freddie he advised, "Time to head back. Your mother asked me to tell you that she's checked what you've packed so far and the inventory of your antibacterial–"

Freddie held up a hand. "Don't say it. Just don't OK?"

Carly giggled. "I guess she moved on from the socks."

"Who would have thought?" he muttered, pushing his chair back.

"You know, we could _really _get her going H.B. – I could tell her that I have to do a recount!"

"_This_ I have to see! Let's go Carls," Sam urged.

"NO!" Freddie protested, "Can't you two leave a man some dignity, at least this one time? Spencer, I thought you could control them! "

"Who? Me? I'm outnumbered."

"How are you outnumbered? There are two of them and two of us!"

"Sure, but two women always outrank two men. Basic law of nature Fred," Spencer bantered good-naturedly.

They headed for the door en masse, pausing to allow April and her family to exit ahead of them. Catching Sam's eye, April arched an eyebrow at the sight of Sam's hand entwined with Spencer's. The ring on her finger sparkled in the light; it was impossible _not_ to see it.

Firmly attached to her husband and with her son in tow, April tilted her head against Brad's shoulder. "You know…"

Spencer could not be sure which of them spoke first. As if by prearrangement the words came out in perfect sync –

"_**I WIN!"**_

The two stared at each other for just a moment before breaking into matching grins. "It would seem that we're in agreement after all," April offered with a twinkle in her eye. Giving Sam a jaunty wave, she stepped out the door laughing.

o O o

A/N: And so gentle readers, we've reached the end. Despite intentions to the contrary, I present you once again with a fairy tale complete. A sincere thank you to all who journeyed along with me; if you haven't had a chance to comment, I would love to hear from you now! I appreciate _all_ the reviews that have been left along the way; your time is valuable and I appreciate you sharing it with me. Those who know me know I'm not fond of shout outs. Even so, I really must express my gratitude to three dedicated people; without their support, this fic would not exist: WhiteKnightro, who shines at leading by example, jhuikmn08, who always has a word of encouragement when I need it most, and Dazzling Hope – this story is especially for you. You believed in it more than anyone.

I leave you with this bad poetry - no matter which half of a couple thou art, remember your head when you follow your heart….

And this much better poetry -

You have brains in your head.  
>You have feet in your shoes<br>You can steer yourself  
>any direction you choose.<br>You're on your own. And you know what you know.  
>And YOU are the guy who'll decide where to go…<p>

Fondly, afanoffanfic

(with considerable assistance from the uncommon common sense of Dr. Seuss.)


End file.
